


Operation: Stileswatch

by antpower



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Creeper!Derek, Derek POV, Derek is suspicious of beauty treatments, Derek loves the Dewey Decimal System, Derek takes a lot of naps, General bad humor, Happy Ending, Hijinx, Jealousy, Lurker!Derek, M/M, Pack Feels, Pining, Post-episode s03e20, Schoolboy rivalry, Sterek endgame, ignoring most of 3b, post-3B, terrible puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antpower/pseuds/antpower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the nogitsune is defeated, Derek follows Stiles around to make sure he's okay.  Deputy Parrish has also been put on Stileswatch by the Sheriff.  Derek doesn't think it sounds overly dramatic to say that back in school, Parrish had been his arch nemesis, and he can't forget how Parrish had usually gotten the best of him.  Derek just wants to protect Stiles, that's all, and if he starts to have feelings along the way, well that's nobody else's business.  And if Parrish starts to have Stiles-related feelings too, well, Derek's determined not to lose so easily this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic does not deal with any of the issues that would undoubtedly be of concern following a possession, I think that's best left to more skillful writers. I basically just miss Stiles and don't want to see him sad and scared anymore. I want him happy and flirting with pretty men, and so this happened.
> 
> I've tried to keep this canon-compliant up until the end of 3B while ignoring most of what happened from Echo House onward.
> 
> I feel as if I should probably apologize to Derek for how I've written his thought process. I'm sorry, Derek, ilu. I should probably also apologize to Parrish. Sorry, pretty deputy, it's Derek who hates you, not me!

It wasn’t as if Derek _wanted_ to be following Stiles around constantly; his idea of fun in no way involved crouching in the tree outside Stiles’ window, listening to Stiles get ready for school. He just felt it was best for the safety of the town, that was all. Plus, Scott had asked him, had drawn up a little roster for himself and Derek and Isaac to be on “Stileswatch”. 

“It’s not like I expect him to get repossessed or anything,” Scott had said. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

And Scott had color-coded the roster and given them each a copy, and who was Derek to refuse that? So, it had nothing whatsoever to do with Derek’s personal feelings so much as the greater good. He wasn’t a weird and creepy creeperwolf, no matter what anyone said.

Stiles had been sleeping when Derek had started his Stileswatch shift the night before, and he seemed to be doing fine, better than expected. He’d been sleeping a lot, but he’d had no nightmares that Derek could tell. And while his scent was slightly muted, as if all Stiles’ sharp edges had been sanded back, Derek thought that was just something that happened to everyone in time.

He listened as Stiles showered and got dressed, but it wasn’t until Stiles thundered down the stairs that Derek realized that the Sheriff had been talking quietly with someone in the kitchen. It made Derek jump to attention, that he could’ve missed something like that when he was supposed to be looking out for Stiles, so he quietly dropped out of the tree and moved closer to the kitchen. He tuned all his senses in, ready to jump in if necessary. Since they’d defeated the nogitsune, Beacon Hills had been in a supernatural slump but Derek didn’t think that was any reason not to stay alert. It was when you dropped your guard that the enemy pressed their advantage, and it had been almost a week since they’d saved Stiles and killed the demon, so Derek figured it was probably high time that the next threat came into the picture. The Sheriff’s heartbeat was steady and he didn’t seem worried, but until Derek knew what was going on, he’d stay vigilant. He stepped closer to the Stilinski’s backdoor in case he needed to burst in for a dramatic rescue. 

“Morning?” Stiles said, and Derek thought he sounded wary. Which was good. Stiles should be wary. But it was also kind of sad, because Stiles was only seventeen and he shouldn’t _need_ to be wary.

“Morning, Stiles,” said the other person. It was a man. He sounded kind of familiar, in a smug and annoying way, but Derek couldn’t place the voice.

“Coffee?” asked the Sheriff.

“Nuh-uh,” said Stiles. “Don’t think you can bribe me with coffee. I know what this is.”

“Stiles.” The Sheriff sighed.

“Look, no offense, Deputy Parrish, but I think I can make it to school and back without an armed guard.”

Derek sucked in a sharp breath. _Parrish_ , of course. Derek had known the guy was back, seen him in passing at the Sheriff’s station, but everything had been so crazy that he hadn’t given it a second thought. _Pretty Eyes Parrish_ , Derek thought, bile rising in his throat. _Prince Parrish_. Derek had a brief, disturbing and possibly inaccurate flashback to ninth grade, standing in the shadows alone, while Parrish was surrounded by smiling faces, chanting his name. Pukeface Parrish, that’s what Derek had called him in school, but only in his head because everyone else had thought Parrish was the bee’s knees and if he’d said Pukeface Parrish out loud, people would’ve thought he was jealous. Which was totally wrong, Derek just thought the guy was too good to be true. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was regressing and he needed to stay focused. Stiles was the important thing now, not some stupid schoolboy rivalry.

“I need to know you’re safe,” said the Sheriff.

“I’ll be at _school_ ,” said Stiles. “Which, okay, not comforting at all, but Scott will be there, and Allison and Isaac and…”

There was a moment of silence, and Derek could imagine the Sheriff’s glare.

“You can’t ground me for being possessed by an evil Japanese fox demon!”

“I’m not grounding you, Stiles.” The Sheriff sounded tired. “I just want you to stick close to Deputy Parrish for a while, when I can’t be around. And if you’re not at school, I want you home.” 

“Sounds a lot like grounding to me,” Stiles muttered.

“Do you want that coffee or not?”

Stiles sighed. “Not.” He sat down at the table with a clatter.

Derek listened as the Sheriff got up and put his cup in the sink.

“I’m doing a double shift, so you should probably find some dinner for Deputy Parrish as well.”

“This is a shocking waste of Sheriff’s department resources,” said Stiles. “Shocking.”

“Make sure you eat something before school,” the Sheriff told him, heading toward the front of the house. “I’ll see you boys later.”  
Stiles moved around the kitchen for a moment and then sat back down with a huff.

“Sooooooooooo,” he said through a mouthful of cereal. “You’re the Kevin Costner to my Whitney Houston, then?”

“Looks that way,” said Parrish, and who did he think he was. If anyone was Kevin Costner it was Derek. And sometimes Scott. Or even Stiles himself, on occasion, which would make Derek the Whitney Houston in that scenario and just no, but the point was that Parrish was in no way Kevin Costner. Parrish would not be dancing with any wolves. Or non-wolf pack members.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t actually need to be here. Nothing’s going to jump out and attack me on the way to school. You should take the morning off. Go see a movie, read a book, have a nap! Take a break, dude, you deserve it!”

Derek rolled his eyes, though he agreed with Stiles’ sentiment. Derek was all the protection Stiles needed and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You think I should disobey a direct order from the Sheriff to go see a movie?” asked Parrish. He sounded sarcastic but Derek could smell the amusement coming off him in waves. He didn’t like it. Parrish hadn’t earned the _right_ to be amused by Stiles, hadn’t had his defences slowly worn down over time and danger.

“He’s a big softie, really. He wouldn’t hold it against you. And he wouldn’t even need to find out…”

“He’d find out because something would inevitably happen to you and it would be my fault for not being there,” said Parrish. “And I don’t think it’s your physical wellbeing that he’s worried about.”

Stiles’ scent turned sharp and sad and Derek didn’t like it. It wasn’t right for Stiles to feel bad, he should always be smiling and making dumb jokes, and Derek wanted to punch Parrish in the face. It just proved Derek’s point that Parrish wasn’t a worthy protector for Stiles. Was Parrish on the Stileswatch roster, no he was not, and this was why.

Derek pulled out his phone to text Scott, “Dept. Puke on unassigned Stileswatch, permission to intervene???” and so he missed it when the two of them got up and headed out. He crept around the side of the house, ducking low to avoid the eagle eye of Mrs Ramirez next door. He watched as they got into the police cruiser parked out the front, Stiles slouching low in his seat. As soon as they were around the corner, Derek casually moseyed down the street to his car. As he buckled up, his phone buzzed with a reply from Scott, a moderately unhelpful, “??? Dude?”

Derek sighed and shifted the car into gear. He’d talk to Scott at the school, but one thing was for sure, this Parrish thing needed to be stopped.

*  
Derek took a shortcut to the school and made it there before Stiles and Parrish. Scott and Isaac were waiting for him out the front. Well, they were probably waiting for Stiles, but whatever.

“What’s going on?” Scott asked. “Your message made no sense, is everything okay? Is there something wrong with Stiles?”

With everything that had happened, Scott had been a little on edge. Derek couldn’t blame him.

“Stiles is fine,” Derek said. “But the Sheriff’s assigned one of the deputies to look out for him and I’m not sure we should trust him.”

“We shouldn’t trust the Sheriff?” Scott asked.

“The deputy,” Derek said. “I know him, we went to school together. He’s…” Derek tried to think of an accurate word to sum up what he thought of Parrish but couldn’t think of anything better than “dumb pukey pukeface”, which he didn’t think would convince Scott of the seriousness of the situation.

“What, that guy?” asked Isaac, waving toward the police cruiser that had just pulled up, where Stiles was flailing at something Parrish said. “Woah, more like Deputy McHottie.”

Derek glared at Isaac. “He’s not someone we can trust, especially not with Stiles. He’s wily. Like a fox.” Derek tried to bore his glare into Scott’s brain so that it would make a lasting impression. “And I think we’ve all had enough of that kind of thing for the time being.”

Isaac quirked an eyebrow and Scott narrowed his eyes at the police cruiser.

“Is he, you know?” Scott asked, glancing back at Derek and holding his hands up to make claws.

Derek shook his head. “No, he’s human, but he’s dangerous. He’s going to be with Stiles until the Sheriff gets home tonight, but don’t leave them alone together.”

“But if the Sheriff trusts him…” said Isaac.

“What do you think he’ll do?” asked Scott. “If he’s human but not a hunter, what could he even do to Stiles? He’s not a hunter, is he?”

Derek shook his head.

“Look, Stiles is vulnerable right now and I just don’t think it’s a good idea…”

“He’s coming,” said Scott. “Look, I’ll talk to him, keep an eye on him. You should go home and get some rest, you look wrecked.”

Derek nodded and ducked around the side of the school building before he ran into Stiles. He hadn’t actually spoken to Stiles for months, not the real Stiles, not since before South America, and it wasn’t as if he was nervous about it or anything. Why would he be nervous about talking to _Stiles_ of all people? He just thought it would be better if he were gone so Stiles didn’t clue into the whole Stileswatch operation. He leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath.

“Was that Derek?” he heard Stiles ask. “Hi Derek! Bye Derek! Nice to be completely avoided by you,” Stiles called.

Derek banged his head back against the bricks. He was usually subtle like a ninja. Not a scary demon ninja of morally ambiguous intentions, but an awesome werewolf ninja. He was off his game, and that was no good because if he had to go up against Parrish he’d need to be in top form.

Scott had told Derek to go home and sleep, but Parrish was still parked in the parking lot, watching Stiles, and Derek wasn’t prepared to leave just yet. He blended in with the other students and slipped in through the side entrance way. He knew Stiles had biology first. Not because he’d memorized Stiles’ timetable that one time he’d seen it by accident or anything, he just knew from his enhanced werewolf senses and stuff. That was totally a thing he could do. He leaned nonchalantly against a row of lockers that had a good view of the door to the biology room, looking completely casual and not at all out of place. When he saw Stiles walk down the hall, he turned toward the nearest locker and fiddled with the lock as though he’d forgotten the combination. 

“Are you breaking into my locker?” 

Derek turned to find a girl glaring at him, arms folded over her chest and tapping her foot.

“Um,” he said. “Sorry.”

He stepped away from the lockers and glanced over, but luckily Stiles had already entered the classroom. The girl huffed and pushed past him to get to the locker just as the bell rang and the door to the classroom shut.

Derek saw his chance and moved to stand over by the biology room, making sure he couldn’t be seen through the little square of glass in the door. He tuned out the lesson and focused on listening to Stiles’ heartbeat. It sounded normal. Well, normal for Stiles, slightly fast and irregular. It was harder to get a fix on his scent with so many other people in the room, but there wasn’t anything worrying there either, mostly just boredom and a little bit of contentment. Derek relaxed slightly.

“Hale, what are you doing here?”

Derek inhaled sharply and felt himself tense up again, ready to attack. It was the second time in a day he’d been caught off guard because he’d been too focused on Stiles. Only because he was taking Operation: Stileswatch seriously. Because it was a serious operation.

Parrish stood in front of him, looking relaxed, charming and slightly curious, and Derek felt himself _de ja vous_ ing so hard he almost stumbled. 

“Parrish,” he said with a nod.

“I'm fairly sure you no longer go here,” said Parrish. He smiled at Derek as if he was thinking back on all the past encounters they’d had, all the times he’d faced Derek down in these corridors and walked away victorious, leaving Derek feeling like a dumbass.

“I’m looking out for Stiles,” Derek said, folding his arms across his chest and fixing Parrish with his most intimidating glare.

“Oh, that’s nice,” said Parrish. “Very neighborly of you. But you really don’t need to, that’s what I’m here for. I’m sure you have other, more important business to get back to.”

Derek turned his glare up to level 10 intensity. “The only business I have is Stiles.”

Parrish raised his eyebrows and glanced through the window into the classroom. “Is that so?”

“Stiles is mine… my responsibility.” Derek took a step closer to Parrish, trying to stare him down, but Parrish didn’t back away, he never had. “You can’t protect him like I can.”

Parrish laughed and clapped Derek on the shoulder. “Oh, I think you’d be surprised what I could do for him.” 

Derek felt his wolf pushing to the surface, scratching to get out and attack Parrish, as all manner of images rose to his mind of Parrish _doing things_ for Stiles. “This isn’t a game, Parrish.”

Parrish actually looked surprised and pulled his hand off Derek’s shoulder. “I wasn’t implying…”

He was cut off by the biology door opening and Lydia’s mother’s head poking out.

“Everything okay out here, boys?” she asked.

Parrish gave Derek a curious look and then turned to Mrs Martin, beams of charm radiating out. “Fine, just catching up on old times.”

“Well, if you could do it somewhere that’s not right outside my classroom, that would be great.”

“Noted,” said Parrish, as Mrs Martin closed the door.

Parrish opened his mouth as though he wanted to carry on their conversation but Derek turned and walked away. Parrish had never backed down from a challenge as long as Derek had known him, and anything he said now would just make it worse.

He headed to the library. Nobody ever bothered him in the library and lately the coach had started giving him funny looks if he saw him hanging out in the locker room, and Derek just wasn’t in the mood for that. He slipped into a table near the back and piled a stack of books in front of himself, only relaxing when he’d found the steady beat of Stiles’ heart again.

*

Derek had fallen asleep, he realized when the school bell rang. He sat up, peeled the book he’d fallen asleep on away from his face, and guiltily looked around. It wasn’t the lunch bell, he realized. Classes had finished. He jumped up and rushed through the halls, trying to get a sense of where Stiles was, only to bump into Scott at the front entrance.

“Derek? What the hell?”

Derek shrank down into his leather jacket and looked away.

“You’ve been here all day? Seriously, everything’s fine. Deputy Parrish seems really nice, we met him at lunch. They’re going to pick up some dinner and head straight home. You don’t need to worry.” Scott placed a hand on Derek’s shoulder and squeezed. “Are you sure this is about the deputy?”

Derek narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Scott sighed. Derek sniffed but couldn’t get a read on what Scott was feeling, which annoyed him and made him kind of proud at the same time.

“Look,” said Scott, pulling them out of the doorway so the other students could get through. “We’ve all been through a lot lately, you and Stiles especially. And sometimes, when a werewolf and a human find themselves in certain situations, it can make certain… stuff… I mean, you might start to… are you really going to make me say it?”

Derek stared at Scott blankly.

Scott shook his head. “I have to go to work now, but just think about it. I mean, you kind of went crazy a bit near the end there, when we thought we’d lost him. And there’s only so many times you can try to die for someone before things become obvious, you know?”

Derek folded his arms over his chest and glared at Scott. “Nobody died, Scott.”

“I know, and that’s great, it’s the best, really. But have you thought about why you were so eager to die for Stiles?” Scott huffed out a breath. “I really gotta go. Isaac’s on Stileswatch and then I’ll take over from him. Get some sleep, okay.”

Derek nodded and watched Scott walk away. He wasn’t sure what Scott was trying to get at but he thought Scott was missing the point completely. Parrish was a type of evil they hadn’t faced before, and he needed to be stopped.

*

Derek totally meant to go back to the loft and sleep, but before he knew it, he was in aisle 3 of Wilson’s Grocers listening in on the conversation Stiles and Parrish were having at the deli counter. They were making puns about cheese, and Derek hated his life.

“I don’t think that’s a _gouda_ idea,” Stiles said, as Derek rounded the corner and hid behind a display of tinned peas. “If we bought them, we’d _edam_ all.”

Parrish groaned. “I _camembert_ any more of your bad jokes.”

Derek watched as Stiles chuckled, his eyes lighting up as he elbowed Parrish in the chest.

“Don’t lie,” said Stiles. “I’m the _haloumi_ nation of your life.”

The two of them sort of _melded_ into each other as they burst into laughter. Stiles threw his head back, exposing the long, pale line of his throat as he clutched Parrish’s shoulder for support, and Parrish slid his hand around Stiles’ waist, rested it on his hipbone. And since when had the two of them been such buddies that they could paw at each other in the middle of the grocers? Parrish hadn’t even been back that long, and it just figured that it would only take one day for Parrish to worm his way into Stiles’ affections. And what would the Sheriff think of one of his deputies getting so handsy with his teenage son? Where was Mrs Ramirez now? She’d only been too eager to run to the Sheriff that time last summer she’d seen Derek climbing out of Stiles’ window, but apparently if it was _Parrish_ then it was _fine_.

Derek felt his fangs drop as Stiles brought his head forward to butt against Parrish’s shoulder. He hastily stepped back as he tried to get himself under control, but his basket knocked into the display and tinned peas went clattering everywhere. Derek stood frozen as the whole display came crashing down around him. He glanced up and of course, his eyes met Stiles’. Stiles’ stupid big Bambi eyes.

Derek backed away, would’ve fled the store, Beacon Hills, maybe even the state, but before he could get more than a few steps, Stiles had crossed the space between them and caught him around the wrist.

“No way, big guy. You’re not running away again,” Stiles said, smirking at him. It was completely different to the smirk that the nogitsune had used Stiles’ face for, this one was so completely Stiles, and Derek felt himself let go of something he hadn’t even known he’d been holding onto. He’d _missed_ Stiles, he realized.

“I wasn’t avoiding you, Stiles,” Derek said.

Stiles gaped at him, his mouth dropping open in a way that Derek couldn’t quite look at.

“You big liar,” he said. “Lying liar. King of lies. But whatever. You’re here now, and you’re… shopping. Really?” Stiles glanced down at Derek’s basket. Derek followed his gaze. He hadn’t even noticed what he was putting in there, just grabbing random things while he focused on Stiles’ voice. There was a tin of cat food, some sanitary pads and a box of crackers. Stiles raised his eyebrows. “You got a cat?”

“Sure,” said Derek.

Movement behind Stiles distracted Derek. Parrish had started picking up the cans to restack them. Typical Parrish, trying to make Derek look bad by showing what a shining example of citizenhood he was. Well, Derek wasn’t fifteen anymore and he wouldn’t be foiled by Parrish’s underhanded tactics. He could be a good citizen too, and he could stack cans like nobody’s business. Derek pulled his hand out of Stiles’ grip and knelt down to pick up all the remaining cans. A few had rolled away, under the shelves, but Derek didn't have superhuman speed and strength for nothing. He stood as he placed the few remaining cans on the display, brushing his hands off on his jeans.

“Nice work, Hale,” said Parrish.

Derek shrugged, not wanting to gloat over the fact that he was clearly superior to Parrish in every way.

Stiles looked between Derek and Parrish, slack-jawed. “You guys know each other?” When he blinked, Derek noticed that his eyelashes were long enough to brush against his cheek. How had he never noticed that before?

“Kind of,” Derek mumbled, trying to shuffle away.

“We went to school together,” said Parrish, and was his arm around Stiles’ shoulders now? “We were co-captains of the basketball team.”

Stiles snorted and his eyes went huge. “No way, you two?” He grinned a grin that had never meant anything but trouble for Derek, then batted his eyelashes up at Parrish. “So, I bet you have heaps of stories about bratty teenage Derek?”

“I have to go,” said Derek, reaching to pick up his discarded grocery basket.

“No way, buddy,” Stiles said, snatching up Derek’s basket before he could get it. “This is too good, you’re coming over for dinner. It’s no fun hearing about the wacky adventures of baby Derek if fully grown Derek isn’t there to make grumpy faces at them.”

“I’ve got things to do, Stiles.” He really didn’t, but there was no way Stiles could know that.

“No you don’t,” said Stiles. “And I’m making the world famous Stilinski vegetable curry. You know you want it.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down in a way that should’ve been ridiculous and kind of was, but was so completely Stiles that Derek appreciated it anyway.

Derek’s throat went dry and he couldn’t answer. Stiles seemed to take that as acceptance.

“Great,” said Stiles, somehow tugging both Derek and Parrish along behind him. Derek was reasonably sure he was doomed.

*

Derek expected it to be horrific, being stuck in close quarters with Stiles and his arch nemesis until he could reasonably escape, but Derek found that it could’ve been worse. Obviously, it could’ve been worse, it was just dinner, nobody was getting tortured or dying. Stiles set both Derek and Parrish up at the kitchen table and made them chop vegetables while he got everything else prepared, chattering about his day as he worked. Derek found that everything was fine so long as he concentrated on the vegetables. Then he looked over and noticed that Parrish had finished with the carrots and was calmly slicing pumpkin and Derek decided to up his game. Derek wasn’t much of a cook but he was a predator, and his instincts told him he needed to show Stiles he could provide, which logically, Derek knew was a bit stupid, but he didn’t want to be outdone by Parrish either way.

“Easy there, buddy,” said Stiles, after about ten minutes, taking the knife out of Derek’s hand. “We’re not feeding an army here.”

Derek glanced down at his pile of chopped vegetables, which was three times the size of Parrish’s. He raised a triumphant eyebrow at Parrish. To his surprise, Parrish chuckled.

“Same old Hale,” Parrish said, which Derek took offence at, considering he hadn’t seen Parrish since he was seventeen and all his family was alive. He was fairly sure he’d experienced various facets of character growth since then.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, swirling some oil around in a frypan then setting it back on the heat.

“Turning everything into a competition,” Parrish said, and the jerk had the nerve to smile fondly, as though they’d been great buddies back in the day. “One time he ate 14 hotdogs at lunch just because Suzie Berkowitz said she’d heard I’d eaten 12. And, oh, remember sophomore year when I got two points higher than you in the math exam?” Parrish turned to Stiles, grinning. “He joined mathletes.”

“No way,” said Stiles, shaking his head. “Photos or it didn’t happen.”

“I think there was a photo in the yearbook, Derek drove our team to victory. I’ll look next time I’m at my mother’s.”

Derek ignored them both and started stacking the chopped vegetables into neat piles but was interrupted by Stiles’ flicking a piece of onion at his head.

“You gotta tell us this sort of thing, geekwolf, or else we all think you’re just this grumpy mountain man.”

“Obviously I could never beat him at basketball, because of the lycanthropy,” Parrish continued. Stiles raised his eyebrows and Derek shrugged. Derek didn’t even want to remember the clusterfuck that had been sixth grade and Parrish finding out about werewolves.

“We were on the same team,” said Derek. “You didn’t need to beat me.”

Parrish laughed again, as though everything Derek had ever done was so funny. “That didn’t usually stop you. Remember the charity Scrabble tournament? And the carwash fundraiser? Or…”

Stiles sighed as he picked up the board with Derek’s vegetables on it. “Man, your school days were like the complete opposite to mine.”

“Not all of them,” said Derek.

Stiles punched him gently in the shoulder. “I can’t believe you were the Jackson,” he said.

“I was not the Jackson.” Derek glared at Stiles. 

“You were totally the Jackson!” Stiles seemed far too gleeful about it, doing a little dance on his way back over to the stove.

“You’re the Jackson,” Derek mumbled.

“Your face is the Jackson,” said Stiles.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Stiles,” said Derek, feeling extra grumpy as Parrish carried his much smaller pile of vegetables over to the sink and smilingly jostled Stiles in the arm. He was just so _good-natured_ about everything, it made Derek sick. He was like some sort of goddamn cartoon prince with a halo of sparkles. Derek was almost sure he’d seen Stiles’ eyes turn into love hearts. Derek abruptly stood up from the table, his chair pushed back with a loud squeak. Stiles and Parrish turned to look at him in surprise.

Derek glared at them.

“So, not that your company isn’t a joy forever,” Stiles said, his eyes darting between Parrish and Derek. “But I’m super behind on homework. Being an evil demon fox really sets back your academic career, you know. So, you guys are going to have to forgive my bad hostishness while I get shit done. But I have, you know…” He waved his hand vaguely toward the living room. “TV and books and things. You can play X-Box if you want.”

Derek had vivid memories of a Mario Kart tournament in 4th grade and Parrish holding the tin foil trophy over his head. Which had been total balls because Derek had been reigning champion of all things SNES in the Hale household and Parrish had only won because he’d picked Toad every time and Derek always played Toad and just couldn’t get the hang of Yoshi at all, and Parrish had said it made no difference but it totally did. So, no, he did not want to play X-Box with stupid, cheating, Toad-hogging Parrish.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Derek said.

He walked outside and sat down on the step. A moment later, the tree rustled and Isaac dropped down to sit beside him.

“What are you even doing here?” Isaac asked.

Derek shrugged.

“You really hate that guy, huh?”

Derek shrugged again.

“Stiles seems to like him though.”

Derek flashed his eyes and Isaac grinned at him.

“Look, if you’re going to be sticking around, is it cool if I go home? Believe it or not, I’ve got better things to do than sit around all night listening to you and Deputy Pretty Eyes battle it out for Stiles’ love.”

“His eyes aren’t even that pretty,” said Derek before he could stop himself. “And shut up. It’s not like that.”

Isaac laughed and patted him on the head. Derek swatted his hand away.

“I’m on Team Derek, you know,” Isaac said as he stood and started walking toward the back fence. “I'm thinking of getting t-shirts printed and everything.”

Isaac jumped the fence and was gone. Derek sat back, leaning on his hands. It was a nice night, clear and cool, and he tried to focus on that, the breeze in the trees and the scents from the houses around, rather than listen in to Stiles and Parrish talk about Stiles’ homework. He didn’t even know what he was doing there, not really. Parrish wasn’t a physical threat to Stiles, he’d never really hurt anyone, unless you counted Derek’s feelings. And with Parrish there, inside the Stilinski home, Stiles was as safe as he could be. The only thing Derek could help with was supernatural threats, and the house was warded against most things now. 

Stiles didn’t need Derek for anything, he wasn’t funny or charming or even easy to be around, not like Parrish. He and Stiles weren’t even friends, not really. Not how most people defined friends. What did it matter if Stiles liked Parrish better, even they’d only known each other a day. It wasn’t as if Derek and Stiles had a history together or anything. A long and complicated history that had brought them from reluctant allies to this, whatever they were now. And it wasn’t as if Derek and Stiles always saved each other, as if Stiles always came back for him, always seemed to know how Derek was feeling and thinking and knew the right thing to do to keep him grounded. It wasn’t as if Derek thought about Stiles all the time, worried about him, tried to memorize things that might make him laugh. No, none of that mattered because _Parrish_ was here now, so Derek was completely unnecessary.

Oh shit, Derek thought. Suddenly, he understood what Scott had been hinting at earlier, why Isaac had been teasing him. Why it seemed so important to keep Stiles away from Parrish even though Parrish would never actually do anything to harm Stiles. He was _jealous_. He had feelings. Feelings. Captial F, Feelings. Feelings about Stiles. Terribly inappropriate Feelings. Had possibly been harboring those Feelings for a while now against his knowledge. 

Like how you think you’re out of potatoes but one day you’re looking in the back of the cupboard for some long-life milk or baked beans, and you realize you did have a potato after all, you’ve had it for months and it’s just been lurking back there and _growing_ and it’s sprouted all sorts of weird things that you’ve never even imagined possible before. And now that you know the potato is there, you can’t just ignore it, you have to take it out of the cupboard and wash it off and examine it and see if it’s edible. And you have to start thinking about all sorts of things like what do you want to do with the potato now? There are a lot of possibilities with potatoes, you could mash them or bake them or make them into curly fries. 

A thousand things flooded through his mind, casual touches that maybe hadn’t been so casual after all, things he’d told Stiles that he’d never told anyone in those days before the Alpha Pack last summer, before everything had turned to complete shit. The constant panic that had made his stomach churn the entire time Stiles was possessed, how he hadn’t even been able to think about what would happen if they’d failed, how he’d been so ready to trade his life for Stiles’. And even before then, how he’d always been so aware of Stiles, where he was, if he was in danger. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized before, he was normally so attuned to his senses. Stiles had just somehow wriggled his way under Derek’s skin and into his veins, and now he pumped through Derek’s bloodstream as though he was something vital to Derek’s survival.

And wasn’t that just great, he had Feelings for a hyperactive seventeen year old. Not only a hyperactive seventeen year old but a hyperactive seventeen year old who probably had PTSD, no matter how much he said he was fine and didn’t remember anything. And who was the Sheriff’s son. And who was now the target of Parrish’s attention.

Derek scrubbed his hand over his face. It was going to be fine, he told himself. Just because he had Feelings for Stiles didn’t mean anyone had to know. Except for Scott, of course, who obviously knew already. And Isaac. Which meant the whole pack probably knew. And Parrish probably did too. But even with everyone knowing, didn’t mean he had to act on those feelings. Except that if he didn’t, Parrish might, and then Stiles would be swept away by his charm and charisma and Derek would never stand a chance. And he couldn’t let that happen. Stiles was _his_ potato and nobody else was going to eat him but Derek.

The backdoor opened and a beam of light fell across Derek.

“Hey, moping time’s over, mopeywolf,” said Stiles, grinning at him in a way that absolutely did not make Derek’s heart flutter.

“I wasn’t moping,” Derek said, getting to his feet.

“You totally were, you’ve got those little frowny lines just there,” Stiles said, poking his finger right between Derek’s eyebrows, and Stiles had touched him a hundred times before but never before had it sent such a zing of electricity through him, leaving him more paralyzed than any torture ever had. “You alright, dude? You look kind of out of it?”

Derek shrugged and took Stiles by the shoulders to turn him and push him inside, just for an excuse to touch him and prove to himself that this was real. “I’m fine, just haven’t slept much.”

“You should sleep, man, sleep deprivation is the worst.”

Derek raised his eyebrows but Stiles ignored him, turning toward the oven to stir the curry. Three plates were laid out on the sink, each with rice piled on the side. It hadn’t felt like Derek had been sitting outside that long but apparently life-changing epiphanies took longer than expected, because the curry was ready and it smelled amazing.

Derek took a seat at the table, which was set for dinner except for where Stiles had his schoolwork piled haphazardly. Parrish was watching Stiles with a fond smile but Derek chose to ignore him.

“You’re studying Camus?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded as he tried to scoop the curry onto the plates. “I have to write a paper on _The Stranger_ by Monday, which is so annoying because there’s this book I really need, like it would back up everything I’ve said perfectly but some girl took it out last year and never brought it back and I can’t even find it on online or anything.”

“Some girl?” Derek asked, distracted by the way the fabric of Stiles’ t-shirt stretched across his shoulders as he splattered curry everywhere. He felt hyperaware of Stiles now, like everything had a secret meaning, all Stiles’ movements were written in a code that only Derek could decipher.

“Yeah, this girl Natalie Manning. And I even found her and asked her about it, like I don’t care if she stole it or something, I just really need it and I said whatever I’d pay her library fine but she was super cagey about it, so I think maybe she used it for some sort of black magic ritual.”

“Because that’s what you do with academic texts,” said Derek.

“It’s Beacon Hills,” said Stiles, placing a plate in front of Derek. “Nothing would surprise me anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” said Derek, picking up his fork and jabbing it toward Stiles.

Stiles snorted and almost tripped over with the other two plates of curry, but Parrish jumped up and grabbed them out of his hands. Stiles grinned goofily at him and Derek quickly looked away.

The curry was amazing. Derek hadn’t realized how hungry he was. By the time he finished and looked up again, Stiles and Parrish were staring at him.

“Well, you definitely win at curry eating,” said Parrish, who still had most of his left.

Derek glanced down at his empty plate. “It was really good,” he said quietly.

“Thanks, buddy,” said Stiles. “You want seconds?”

Derek shook his head. “I should probably get going.”

“No way, you can’t just eat and run, I haven’t even seen you in months and I need to hear more about you being a nerdy teenager.” Stiles jumped up and grabbed Derek’s plate, heaping more curry on it before he could protest.

“Stiles,” Derek said with a groan.

“No arguments,” Stiles said, putting the refilled plate down in front of him. “Besides, my dad wanted to talk to you about something, so you can at least stay until he gets home. It’ll be fun. We can, you know, hang out.”

“Hang out?” Derek asked. He and Stiles had never really hung out, they were usually in forced proximity because of a near death or soon-to-be near death situation. Derek wondered what it would be like, to have the sort of relationship with Stiles where they could just hang out for no reason.

“Yeah,” said Stiles, taking his seat and waving his fork around. “We’re pack now, we should do, you know, pack bonding stuff.”

Derek raised his eyebrows but didn’t protest any further, and he was kind of scared to ask what Stiles’ idea of pack bonding entailed.

Derek picked at his curry while Parrish told Stiles about how Derek had wolfed out at 7th grade camp and had panicked and locked himself in the boys’ bathroom, and Parrish had explained away all the scratches in the walls by telling the teachers that Derek had been held hostage by a feral raccoon and Parrish had rescued him with a toilet plunger. Stiles thought it was hilarious and kept shooting Derek delighted looks which totally put him off his food.

They were thankfully interrupted by the Sheriff arriving home, trailed closely by Scott.

“I found this guy lurking around out the front,” the Sheriff said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at Scott. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Derek sitting at the table. “Derek, good to see you. Now, what smells so delicious? I’m starved.”

Derek got up and took his plate over to the sink to rinse so that the Sheriff had somewhere to sit. Scott shuffled up beside him.

“Dude, you still haven’t slept?” he said in a whisper that was probably supposed to be subtle but totally wasn’t.

Derek shrugged. “I slept a bit earlier.”

Scott shook his head. “You can’t keep doing this. I’ll stay over tonight but you really need to go home. Don’t make me alpha you.”

Derek rolled his eyes just as Stiles stepped up to his other side, hemming Derek in and making him the meat in a Scott and Stiles sandwich. He reached across and turned off the tap, his hand brushing Derek’s.

“What’s going on, you guys? You’re acting weird. If something’s up, I want to know about it, I’m not too delicate to stay in the loop.”

“Nothing’s up,” said Derek.

“Nothing except the fact you haven’t slept in weeks,” said Scott.

“I’m fine,” Derek said. “I’ve slept.”

Scott snorted. “Yeah, in 2005, maybe.”

“You really should get some sleep, son,” said the Sheriff. “You’ve done enough, you deserve a rest.”

Derek shook his head, because if he’d really done enough, if he’d done things right in the beginning, then Stiles wouldn’t have been possessed in the first place. If he’d been smarter, trusted the right people, they could’ve avoided the whole mess.

Stiles smacked him on the shoulder and pointed right in his face. “Nuh-uh, big guy. I know that look. I know what you’re thinking and it’s all lies, so get those thoughts out of your head and think about happy stuff. Like puppies and unicorns.”

“Unicorns are evil,” Derek told him, mostly to watch the way Stiles’ eyes got big and shiny whenever he received new information.

“Unicorns are real? But they’re not in the bestiary! Do you have information on them?” Derek watched the movement of Stiles’ face, the way his eyebrows rose and his lips parted, and then his eyes lit up in understanding and his features relaxed. “You’re screwing with me, aren’t you.”

Derek shrugged but couldn’t help but smile. He glanced over at the Sheriff.

“Stiles said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

The Sheriff waved him off. “It can wait. Come by the station and see me tomorrow evening if you have time, but Scott’s right, you look like you’re about to faint from exhaustion. You too, deputy, it can’t have been easy putting up with my kid all day.”

Parrish grinned at the Sheriff. “It was fine, we had fun.”

“That’s right, pops,” said Stiles, slipping into the seat next to Parrish and clapping him on the shoulder. “I am 100% sunshine and joy.”

Derek didn’t realize his claws had dropped until Scott grabbed him around the wrist. 

“Well, I’ll see you later. Thanks for dinner.” Derek nodded to the Sheriff and then headed to the front door.

He was almost back to his car when Parrish caught up to him.

“Hale, wait up a second.”

Derek tried to pretend he didn’t hear but Parrish caught ahold of the car door before Derek could shut it. Parrish leaned against the door, smiling down at Derek in a way that made him feel trapped.

“So, Stiles is great,” Parrish said.

Derek narrowed his eyes. “What do you want, Parrish.”

Parrish laughed. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

Derek gripped the steering wheel as tight as he could without breaking it. “He’s only seventeen.”

“Is that going to stop you?”

“I can recover from the bullet wound when the Sheriff shoots me, you can’t.” Derek forced a smirk.

Parrish shrugged. “The Sheriff loves me. I’ve never been accused of murder. Three times.”

“I was exonerated. Three times.”

Parrish laughed again, as if nothing Derek said could affect him. “I just wanted to state my intentions to you so that you didn’t see it as some sort of weird challenge to your territory when Stiles and I start dating.”

Derek couldn’t help the growl that escaped his throat. 

“I mean, it’s really up to Stiles, of course. If he prefers the ex-murder suspect werewolf vigilante type, that’s his call.”

And the thing was, the thing that Derek really hated about Parrish was, sure the guy could be as sarcastic as anyone, but most of the time he was pure sincerity. Derek could smell it on him, that Parrish really would willingly step aside and let Derek be with Stiles, no hard feelings. Derek didn’t understand him, couldn’t figure out how the guy thought and it had always annoyed him so much.

“Of course,” Parrish continued, “I’d rather he chose me, and I’ll do my best to see that he does. The Sheriff has me rostered on to look out for him all week, that gives me plenty of time to get to know him. You better make your move fast, Hale, if you want to take advantage of your headstart.”

“This isn’t middle school, Parrish. Stiles isn’t Carrie Hopkins. I’m not going to _compete_ with you for him.”

Parrish shook his head and started backing away. “If you don’t play the game, you’ve already lost,” he said.

Derek slammed the car door closed and thumped his head against the steering wheel. He didn’t know what to do, he was no good at this kind of thing. Behind his eyelids, he could see Carrie Hopkins’ smile when she’d walked into the Spring dance with Parrish. He didn’t even know how Stiles felt. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn’t just watch as Parrish swept in and made off with Stiles. 

He needed a plan.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has a plan to win Stiles' heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to keep this canon-compliant up until the end of 3B while ignoring most of what happened from Echo House onward.

Chapter 2

Derek’s plans were usually fairly simple and went something like:

1\. Find the bad thing  
2\. Kill the bad thing

But the bad thing in this case was Parrish, so Derek thought he might need a different approach. Plus, his usual plans didn’t often go so well.

It took a night jog through the Preserve, two loads of laundry, and disc 4, season 3 of Buffy (he liked Faith), but Derek worked out a five-point plan for winning Stiles’ heart. The fact that it had three more points than his usual plans made Derek think that it might just work. It was mainly based off stories he’d heard about how his mother had wooed his father, and while he did have moral objections to the word “woo”, his mom had been super smart and good at stuff, so he figured he couldn’t go too far wrong following her example. He smoothed out the piece of paper on the table in front of him and read it back over.

1\. Strengths (show them to Stiles)  
2\. Mutual interests (talk to him about them? Do stuff???)  
3\. Listen to him  
4\. Be honest  
5\. Don’t be such a sourwolf

Derek furrowed his eyebrows. Maybe some of the points needed sub-points. He wasn’t sure how to show Stiles his strengths in a way that would convince Stiles he was the smart choice. He tapped his pen against his chin. 

His main strength was definitely his werewolf abilities, and he kind of realized that maybe sometimes he’d shown them off a bit for Stiles’ sake. He also realized that Stiles had never seemed all that impressed by them, but he still figured it was one for the pro column. Better to have supernatural abilities than not, especially when it came to most things Stiles-related, so under “strengths”, he added:

• werewolf  
• natural provider (food, supernatural knowledge? Other stuff? Moral support?)

He couldn’t think of anything else, so he decided to come back to it and move onto point two. That one was easy, he and Stiles had _loads_ of mutual interests.

• defeating evil things  
• protecting people  
• talking about Scott  
• baked goods

He read the list back over one more time and nodded in satisfaction. He felt better having a plan in place, and he’d finished in time to get in a few hours sleep. For the first time in ages, Derek thought there might be something to look forward to.

*

Derek didn’t like getting up early, but he pulled himself out of bed when his alarm went off, well before dawn. Luckily, he was still more-or-less in crisis mode and his body was telling him he could sleep when all this was over. At least he _hoped_ he could sleep when this was all over, and wasn’t kept awake, staring out the window into the dark with a heart full of unrequited love. Or because of monsters. Either would be bad.

He couldn’t be sure what time Parrish had arrived at the Stilinski’s the previous day, but Derek wanted to get there first. The bakery on Wilson Street had just opened when Derek stopped by, so the cinnamon twists he picked up were still warm. He kept them nestled against his belly as he sat in the tree outside Stiles’ window and it helped fight off the morning chill. Scott, Stiles and the Sheriff were all still asleep, their heartbeats slow and steady. Derek listened past Scott’s snores to focus on Stiles’ even breaths and tried to think of other things to add to his list. He was pleased with his cinnamon twists, they fell both under mutual interests and showing off his strengths. He had a spare leather jacket that would fit Stiles, so he could provide that too. He could teach Stiles to do backflips. And other things, loads of other things. He hugged the cinnamon twists close but before he could add anything more to his plan, he heard Stiles whimper.

Before Derek was really aware he was moving, he was through Stiles’ window, banging his shins on a set of drawers. He’d forgotten Stiles had moved things around. Scott was still fast asleep on the air mattress, but Stiles thrashed in the bed, murmuring. Derek stood frozen by the window, watching him in the dim light, how his hair had stuck to his forehead with sweat, and the t-shirt he slept in had pulled away to reveal the dip of his collarbones. Stiles was beautiful, sprawled across the bed with moonlight glowing off his skin, and it punched Derek in the stomach, but didn’t really surprise him. He’d been looking at Stiles for a while, he supposed, he just hadn’t known it. Stiles whimpered again and almost hit himself in the face. He smelled like pain and distress, and Derek realized he was squishing the cinnamon twists in his fist, so he sat them on top of the drawers, and moved quietly closer to the bed.

“Stiles,” he whispered, bending down to shake Stiles by the shoulder. “Wake up, you’re having a bad dream.” 

He shook Stiles again but he didn’t wake up. Derek wasn’t sure what to do. He thought about waking Scott, but Scott reeked of exhaustion, and Derek should be able to handle this. Stiles’ scent was overwhelming up close; the fear rolled off him in waves, but Derek couldn’t let it affect him, he had to be calm when Stiles awoke. He brushed the damp hair away from Stiles’ forehead, and then moved to shake him again. Stiles’ hand shot out and grabbed Derek by the wrist and he sucked in a deep breath as he sat bolt upright.

“Derek?” he gasped, his fingers digging into Derek’s skin. He looked confused for a moment, then let go of Derek and started patting down Derek’s stomach, his chest. “You’re okay? You’re alive? You’re not bleeding?”

Derek pulled Stiles’ hands away and sat down on the bed.

“It was just a dream,” Derek said.

Stiles blinked at him, then stared down at his hands, bending each finger as though he was counting. He looked back up at Derek and his heartbeat started to slow.

“A dream,” he said, letting out a long breath.

“Want to talk about it?” Derek asked, remembering that point 4 on his list was to listen. And he liked it there, the warmth of Stiles’ bed, wrapped up in his smell in the dark. If he could ignore Scott and the lingering scent of distress, it was almost as if the two of them had spun a cocoon around themselves, a place where they could be safe from the rest of the world. He wanted to burrow into it and never leave.

Stiles shook his head and Derek started to stand up from the bed, thinking Stiles probably wanted his space, but Stiles caught him and pulled him back down, one hand tangling in Derek’s sleeve as the other pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said. He dropped Derek’s arm and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “It was just… the nogitsune was in me again, or still, I guess? And Allison _died_ , and one of the twins, and you went crazy and tried to set Chris Argent on fire, everyone was kind of crazy, I think, there were these crazy-making flies or something. And that coyote girl was there – I think she was Peter’s daughter, what the hell? And we went to Japanese Narnia, and…” Stiles’ heart rate picked back up again and Derek grabbed Stiles’ hands, circled his fingers around Stiles’ wrists as if he could calm Stiles pulse down by touch. “And Kate Argent was there and she was a werewolf or something, not in Narnia, in your loft, and she shot you, Derek, right there.” He brushed his fingers across the center of Derek’s chest, pulling Derek’s hand with him. “And she was _blue_ , Derek, what the hell? And there were these South American guys, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell is going on in my brain.” Stiles sighed and wouldn’t meet Derek’s eye. “It felt so _real_.”

“Hey,” Derek said softly, tracing his thumb along Stiles’ wrist. “You’ve been through a lot, nobody expects you to get over it right away. It would be weird if you did. But we got through it. We’re all okay. And Kate Argent’s dead, you were there when they put her in the ground, remember? It was just a bad dream.”

Stiles huffed out a laugh that was more relief than amusement, and nudged Derek with his knee. “You’re surprisingly good at this, you know?”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he asked. He could totally add another sub-point to his list.

Stiles shrugged and settled back into his pillows. “Yeah, I guess. And I hope you notice how I’m not asking what you’re doing in my room at…” His eyes flickered to the clock on the table. “Five-thirty in the morning, that’s how much I appreciate it. I’m going to get some more sleep, are you going to stick around? Deputy Parrish said he was going to bake some chocolate banana muffins for breakfast, apparently they’re the best thing ever.”

Derek waited until Stiles had fallen back to sleep, then untangled Stiles’ fingers from where they were curled in Derek’s sleeve and moved back toward the window. As he turned to leave he caught the gleam of Scott’s eyes, watching him.

“Don’t even,” Derek said, snatching up his bag of crushed cinnamon twists.

“Go Team Derek,” Scott whispered, making a little fist pump motion that Derek chose to ignore in favor of vanishing through the window.

It didn’t matter, chocolate banana muffins notwithstanding. Derek’s plan was foolproof.

*

While he sat in the tree in Stiles’ yard, picking at bits of cinnamon twist, Derek thought about his plan some more. The backbone of it, he realized, was to prove to Stiles that there were many benefits of being with a werewolf. That was his major advantage over Parrish. And it couldn’t be just any werewolf, not Scott or Isaac, but a born wolf who knew how to take full advantage of their gift. But not a born wolf who was probably evil and still a bit crazy, like Uncle Peter, a wolf who would use his powers for good. Stiles needed that book for his paper, and Derek was determined to use all his wolfy senses to track it down. The way to Stiles’ heart was definitely through his brain, not his stomach.

Stiles had said the girl’s name – Natalie Manning – and it only took a quick trip to the school office for Derek to get all her personal details, as well as the name of the book.

Dawn was just breaking as Derek left the school and headed downtown, to the apartment building where Natalie Manning lived. Apartments were usually harder to break into than houses, but Derek thought if he scaled the fire escape, he should be able to get in with no problem. Natalie Manning lived in apartment 6, and there seemed to be only two apartments on each floor, so he had a fifty-fifty chance of getting the right one. He hoisted himself up to the fire escape so he could check out the third floor apartments. The one on the left was filled with cat figurines and cross-stitched tapestries that said things like “busy bees make lovely honey”, and it smelled of old lady, so he ruled that out. The other apartment didn’t smell particularly like someone who would withhold books, but he supposed you never could tell about people.

He slid the window open easily and ducked inside. There were two heartbeats, both obviously sleeping. He glanced around, the place was fairly neat but there were a few things sitting around, a chemistry book and a water bottle, an empty pizza box on the kitchen bench. He made his way over to the bookshelf in the corner, running his finger along the spines of the books as he read their titles. None of them were the one he was looking for. It must be in her bedroom then. Derek sighed. It wouldn’t be good if he got caught in a schoolgirl’s bedroom, probably, but Stiles needed the book, and what did she expect, not returning her library books when other people clearly needed to use them.

The bedroom doors were side by side in a short hallway, and Derek stood for a moment to listen and see which was the right room. The heartbeat on the left was slightly faster and the faint smells from the room, of candy and green apples, told Derek that was more likely to be a teenage girl. He pushed the door open quietly and poked his head into the room. 

The bed was in the far corner of the room, the girl an unmoving lump in the center of it. There was a desk opposite the door, with messy piles of books and papers covering it, and a bookshelf beside it. Derek moved silently over to the desk, trying to read the titles of the books without moving anything. None of them were the right book, so he moved on to the bookshelf. He’d barely finished with the top shelf, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at it, there was a text from Stiles, saying, “you left?”, but before he could reply, something hit him upside the head.

“What are you doing in my room?” the girl asked.

Derek turned his head to see the girl sitting up, holding a shoe, which she had aimed at his head. She fumbled around under her pillow with her free hand, never taking her eyes off him, and pulled out her phone.

“You’re the guy who was trying to break into my locker yesterday,” she said. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Derek shrugged and held up his hands to show he meant no harm. “Where is _The ethical pragmatism of Albert Camus_?”

The girl blinked at him.

“You never returned it,” he said. “I’m looking for it.”

“What are you, the library police? Some sort of library avenger?”

Derek shrugged again. It was easier than explaining.

“You seriously broke into my house to look for a book?”

When Derek shrugged again, the girl – Natalie, he supposed – put the shoe down and folded her arms over her chest. She stared at him but Derek didn’t look away. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he wasn’t the one stealing books and inconveniencing Stiles. He squared his shoulders so that he looked slightly more menacing.

“I don’t have it,” she said, finally. “It was in my boyfriend’s car when we broke up, I don’t know what happened to it.”

“I’m disappointed that you take your responsibility for library books so lightly,” he told her.

She raised her eyebrows. “You broke into my house in the middle of the night and _you’re_ disappointed in _me_?”

Derek continued to glare at her.

She huffed, blowing the hair off her forehead. “Look, I’ll give you his name and address, but you’ve got to stop being such a creeper. It’s seriously not okay.”

Derek shrugged again and waited while Natalie pulled out the drawer of her nightstand and scribbled down her ex’s name and address on a piece of notepaper.

“It’s not even a popular book,” she said, handing Derek the paper.

“It’s the principle,” he told her and melted into the shadows.

*

Derek’s phone buzzed twice more while he was driving to the ex-boyfriend’s house. One was Stiles saying, “well, you’re the one missing out, buddy, because these muffins are amazing” and the other was a picture of a muffin. Derek tried to think of a reply while he was staking out the ex-boyfriend’s house.

The ex-boyfriend’s name was Dave Castrella and he lived on the outskirts of town. Derek sent Stiles a text that said, “muffins are for nerds”, because he couldn’t think of anything better, then put his phone in the glove compartment so it wouldn’t buzz while he was doing book-finding reconnaissance again. 

A quick look around told Derek the guy was a couple of years older than Natalie and worked the early shift at the garage out on the highway. The book wasn’t in his house, though Dave’s rottweiler was, but Derek managed to calm it down by projecting a soothing presence and his ability to jump out the window. When he got back to the car, he had another message from Stiles. “don’t deny ur nerd heritage, mathlete wolf”. Another message came through before he could reply, “I bet ur secretly the kind of guy who can name every class of starship in star wars”. Derek huffed a laugh before he could help himself and replied, “that still wouldn’t make me want to eat parrish’s muffins”.

He threw his phone down on the passenger seat and put his car into gear. He’d have to drive out to the garage to see if the book was still in Dave’s car where Natalie had said she’d left it.

He pulled into an empty space and checked his phone before he got out to look around. Stiles had said, “u know that sounds dirty, right?” And then, “ru SURE u don’t want to eat his muffin? U guys had a vibe u know. It’s not good to repress. u can tell me, I won’t judge.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “YOU eat his muffin if you’re so interested in it,” he typed, and he’d hit send before he realized the implications of what he’d said. He did not want Stiles eating Parrish’s muffin in any way, but he figured it would be worse to try to take it back now. He huffed and pocketed his phone.

He wasn’t sure which car belonged to Dave from the few that were parked on the garage lot, so he walked around nonchalantly, looking in the car windows. There was a beat up Toyota that had a similar acrid smell to Dave’s house, and Derek had just finished jimmying the lock when he heard the unmistakable sound of a pump-action shotgun.

“Step away from the car, boy, and maybe nobody’ll get hurt.”

Derek looked up to see an old bald guy in greasy overalls pointing a shotgun at him. He sighed. If people would just return their library books like they were supposed to, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen.

“This isn’t what you think,” he said. “Dave has something of mine.”

The guy rolled his eyes. “Tell it to the Sheriff, he’ll be here soon.” 

He motioned with the gun for Derek to move away from the car, so Derek did, raising his hands and leaning against the back of the car. He knew he could take the guy easily enough, but he didn’t want to risk being on the run from the law again. It wouldn’t help him find the book, and the Sheriff knew about wolfsbane now. Plus, it was really inconvenient. He glared at the guy while they waited, and soon enough, he heard the sound of the Sheriff’s cruiser approaching.

“Hey, Sheriff,” said the guy, not taking his eyes off Derek as Sheriff Stilinski climbed out of his car. “Caught this joker here breaking into Dave’s car.”

Derek folded his arms over his chest and glared a bit more fiercely at the guy. “I told you it wasn’t like that.”

The Sheriff sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Derek, what are you doing?” He sounded so weary, so _disappointed_ , that Derek’s heart clenched for a moment. He’d thought the Sheriff would be angry but this was so much worse. Nobody had looked at him like that in years, that “I expected better” look.

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” Derek explained, needing to get that look off the Sheriff’s face. “This guy, Dave, has a book that Stiles needs for a paper he’s writing. It’s a _library book_ and it’s well overdue. If anything, you should be arresting him.”

The Sheriff shook his head. He still looked disappointed but Derek thought he’d maybe started to smell a little amused. “And you didn’t think to just go inside and ask him where the book was?”

Derek shook his head, feeling a little stupid. Now that the Sheriff said it, it sounded so _simple_ , but the thought had never even occurred to him.

The Sheriff turned to the guy, who was still pointing his gun at Derek. “Okay, Joe, you can put that away. This is just a misunderstanding. Can you get this Dave guy out here for a second?”

The guy narrowed his eyes at Derek, but did as the Sheriff said. “He might be a minute, he’s in the middle of a grease and oil change.”

The Sheriff nodded, then came over to lean against the car next to Derek.

“A book, huh? For Stiles?”

Derek nodded, staring at his feet.

“They could’ve had you up on criminal charges, you know.”

Derek scuffed his toes in the gravel, not wanting to meet the Sheriff’s eye.

“And that’d make the next thing I want to ask you kind of awkward…”

Derek managed to lift his eyes to see the Sheriff smiling at him. “I thought, after everything you did when Stiles was… you know…” The Sheriff shifted uncomfortably and Derek nodded, not sure what he was getting at. “You’ve done a lot for Stiles. Hell, you’ve done a lot for all of us. You’re a good man, Derek, even if you do sometimes go about it a strange way. And you seem fairly committed to protecting this town, so I wondered if you might think of doing it on a more professional basis. Get paid for it. I can’t deny it’d be useful having a werewolf on our team.”

Derek stared at the Sheriff.

“We’re running pretty low on deputies, you might’ve noticed.”

Derek wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t remember anyone offering him a job before, and this was the _Sheriff_ , a man he respected. He cleared his throat.

“I know, I know,” the Sheriff said with a laugh, “if I’m so low on deputies, why do I have one off keeping an eye on Stiles.”

Derek shook his head. “No, I understand.” He cleared his throat again. “I understand the need to protect Stiles.”

The Sheriff nodded. “Yeah, I think you do.” He offered a small smile that confirmed for Derek that his hidden feelings were definitely not hidden to anyone in all of Beacon County. “Well, think about it.” He clapped Derek on the shoulder and pushed off from the car. “You’ll be around later? I’ll bring home the paperwork.”

Derek could feel the tips of his ears burning, but he nodded.

“Hey, Sheriff,” a guy called from the garage. “You wanted to see me?”

The Sheriff shook his head, walking toward his cruiser. “Talk to my new deputy,” he said, waving an arm toward Derek.

Derek tried not to look too pleased and adopted his fiercest scowl as the guy, who he assumed was Dave, approached.

“Hey bro, sup?” Dave asked, wiping his hands off on his overalls.

“I’m looking for a book that Natalie Manning left in your car,” Derek said.

Dave shrugged. “Yeah, she left a bunch of crap in my car, man. Chicks, amirite?”

Derek realized he was baring his teeth but didn’t see any point in stopping.

“I took it down to the thrift store on Main Street, you know the one?”

“It was a Beacon Hills High library book,” Derek said. “You didn’t think of returning it there?”

“It’s cool,” said Dave. “It’s like, spreading the knowledge around, right?”

“No, it is not cool,” Derek told him. He pointed a finger in Dave’s face. “Nothing about it is cool.”

Derek was pleased to note that Dave went a little pale. “Are you gonna arrest me, man? It’s just a book.”

“A _library book_ ,” Derek reiterated. Dave looked unabashed and Derek figured there was no use in pushing it. ‘If you’re jerking me around, I’ll be back.”

The world was full of idiots, Derek decided. Idiots with no respect for the library. But on the plus side, this was good practice for his new job.

*

The thrift store had _a lot_ of books, and were stacked on the shelves in no particular order. Derek felt offended on behalf of the Dewey Decimal system. He couldn’t help but start organizing the stacks of books as he sorted through them. The lady at the desk had just waved him over in the direction of the books when he’d asked, so he assumed they didn’t keep a record of which particular books they got in, and it was dusty and disorganized, and Derek thought that people who said they loved the smell of old books definitely didn’t have werewolf senses because old books were _ripe_ , he could smell all sorts of fungi growing in those pages, and traces of all the people who had thumbed through them.

He kept his phone in his back pocket but Stiles hadn’t messaged him since Derek’s muffin fuck up. It was no big deal, Stiles was in school, so he probably couldn’t message. It didn’t mean that Stiles and Parrish were undertaking any sort of muffin-eating activities. And it was a stupid metaphor that didn’t really fit the situation anyway, so Derek wasn’t at all worried.

It took _hours_ to go through the books. Actual hours. Hours where Derek could’ve been keeping watch over Stiles, or doing something nice for Stiles, or even something not Stiles-related, like pull-ups or something. And sure, he liked books, and he liked the idea of second-hand books, the recycling of knowledge and all that, but as he watched his 50th paper cut heal, he started to see the benefits of e-books. And after everything, the book wasn’t there. After he went through all the books and reorganized them (alphabetical for fiction, Dewey Decimal for non-fiction), he went back through them, and it still wasn’t there. Which meant it had been sold, or maybe misplaced, because Derek was pretty sure there wasn’t a massive market for academic texts about Camus. He had no way of finding the book, no scent to track, no way of finding out if it had been sold. He let out a deep sigh and brushed dust out of his hair. He thanked the lady at the desk and went to sit in his car.

Still no text from Stiles. Derek sighed and opened a new message.

“Muffins aren’t a healthy breakfast,” he typed. “You shouldn’t eat them at all.” That seemed to the point, he thought, so he sent the message. Then he opened up his web browser and did a search to see if any colleges within driving distance had the book. There was one a few hours away, and Derek had just put the key in the ignition when he got a reply from Stiles.

“Are u allergic to all happiness or just mine?” Followed closely by, “where even ARE you? What do u do all day when ur not lurking around the school like a creeper?”

Derek couldn’t tell him he was looking for the book, not before he had it, so he just settled for a lame, “grown up business, you wouldn’t understand.” He smirked as he typed, knowing how much that would annoy Stiles, then added, “Shouldn’t you be studying?”

He turned on the car, mentally preparing for a long drive, but his phone buzzed before he could even back out of his space.

“Nope, just handed in camus paper, am FREE!!!”

Derek stared at the message in bewilderment for a moment, trying to process what it meant. He sent back, “I thought you needed some book or something?” and hoped that it didn’t sound too weird.

“dep. P’s sister did her dissertation on camus, had the book,” Stiles replied.

“Oh,” Derek said aloud.

It didn’t matter, not really. It was just the way it always had been, Derek trying so hard for something, wanting it so badly, and Parrish just sweeping in and getting it with no trouble at all. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disappointed. He didn’t feel at all as though he’d been punched in the lungs with a brick. It wasn’t as though he was defeated and this meant Stiles and Parrish would get married and live happily ever after with seventeen kids and probably a few puppies. Derek took a deep breath. He was fine. He was happy even, because Stiles had finished his paper, he was catching up with schoolwork and settling back into his life, and that was a good thing.

His phone buzzed again. He hesitated to look at it, wondering if it was Stiles telling him that Parrish was a werewolf now, and not only a werewolf but an alpha, the best alpha ever, whose pack loved him and were always safe and whose decisions never ended in tragedy. But it wasn’t even Stiles, it was Allison Argent, of all people.

“code red, lydia’s house. Help needed asap.”

Derek floored the gas pedal. At least some sort of supernatural disaster would get his mind off things.

*

Derek burst into Lydia Martin’s bedroom with his claws out and eyes blazing. It took him a moment to notice nobody was in mortal peril, that Lydia, Allison and Kira were sprawled out on Lydia’s bed playing with their phones.

Lydia looked up at him and smiled. “Stay there, I’ll get the door,” she said, getting up and patting him on the arm as she walked past. He watched as she sprinkled something across the doorway. Derek sniffed. Mountain ash. He decided not to put his claws away just yet.

“You said you needed help,” he said.

“Help is definitely needed,” said Lydia, brushing her hands off. “But not _by_ you. _For_ you. We’re having an intervention.”

“Take a seat,” said Allison, gesturing toward a comfortable-looking chair in the corner. “This might take a while.”

Derek took out his phone to text for help, but Lydia snatched it away from him and put it in the open jar of mountain ash that was sitting on her dresser. She smiled at him and then perched on the computer chair, staring up at him expectantly. He sighed and sat down.

When he looked up, he realized the three girls were staring at him. Derek stared back, determined not to be the first one to crack. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew it was going to be some sort of torture.

Kira was the first one to break. “You love Stiles,” she said.

Derek groaned and stood up. “I’m leaving,” he said.

“You can’t,” Allison said. “Mountain ash.”

Lydia pushed him back into his chair, then turned toward Allison and Kira. “Remember, we need to use ‘I’ statements,” she said. “Like, ‘I find it hurtful that Derek won’t admit that he loves Stiles’.” She sat back in the computer chair and raised her eyebrows at Derek.

“ _I_ think this is none of your business,” said Derek. “And shouldn’t you all be in school?”

Lydia shook her head. “You’re not allowed to speak until we’ve all had our turn. And we’re having a mental health day.”

“I think it would be good for the pack dynamic if you and Stiles got together,” said Allison, smiling at him so that her dimples showed. “And that you’d be really good for each other.”

Lydia nodded her approval. “I feel worried that without the emotional grounding you obviously get from Stiles, you might do something irrational.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, but he could still hear all the words she didn’t say, words she might not even have known, words like _Kate_ and _Jennifer_.

Derek tried pretending he was somewhere else, where he was alone and far away from nosy teenage girls, but the situation was too surreal to ignore.

“I think the pack worries that if you don’t deal with this, you might pull away just as we’re all starting to come together,” said Allison, and Derek was surprised to smell her genuine concern. “Nobody wants you to leave again.” 

“I think you guys would have super hot sex,” added Kira, nodding at Derek and making big eyes.

“Obviously,” said Lydia. She wrinkled her nose as though the thought was distasteful to her. “But I think we’re getting off track. All the literature said the first thing we need to do is to define the problem. _I_ think the problem is that Derek feels as if he doesn’t deserve love.”

Allison hummed in agreement. “I think that’s really sad.”

It was all becoming far more personal than Derek was comfortable with. “So, if I admit that I love Stiles, can we stop with the ‘I’ statements?”

Lydia glanced at Allison. “This seems too easy.”

Allison nodded.

Derek decided he needed to talk his way out of this or it would just continue. “I know I have feelings for Stiles…”

Lydia cleared her throat.

“Fine, I know I love Stiles, I even made a stupid plan.” He felt in his pocket for the paper with his plan written on it. “But it’s stupid, it’ll never work.”

Lydia made grabby hands and Derek handed the paper over with more than a little apprehension. Lydia raised her eyebrows as she read through it, then handed it to Kira, who held it up so Allison could read over her shoulder.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You’re his friends, you should know he deserves someone better.” He folded his arms over his chest and scowled at them.

“I think you’re great!” said Kira. “You helped me with the fox thing, you were really nice to me.”

“And that’s Stiles’ decision,” said Lydia. “We’re not here to tell you how he feels, we’re here so that you feel able to tell him how you feel.”

“We accept the love we think we deserve,” Allison told him seriously.

Derek sighed. That was it, he’d humored them but enough was enough. He knew they meant well, but the last thing he needed was to have angsty teen novels quoted at him. “Fine, I’ll tell him how I feel. Can I go now?” He moved to stand up.

“Nuh-uh,” said Lydia, pushing him back into his chair. “We’re just getting started. I mean, this plan?” She plucked up Derek’s carefully constructed plan from off the bed and ripped it in half. “Not gonna work. I mean, obviously you should listen to him and be nice to him, but the rest of it is just superficial. Stiles doesn’t care if you both like cakes or that you can tell him about vampires, he cares about _you_.” 

“Just be honest with him,” said Allison. 

Kira sat upright and clapped her hands. “Oooh, let’s do roleplays! Can I be Stiles?”

Before they could roleplay, though, Lydia decided they needed to set the scene. She dimmed the lights and put on The Notebook as background atmosphere. Then Kira remembered she had facemasks that her father had brought back from Korea that they all needed to try.

“I’m not putting that on my face,” Derek told her, as she held the dripping sheet out to him. It had holes cut out for the eyes and mouth, and a weird little nose flap. It looked like something from a horror movie and didn’t smell like it should be in contact with human flesh.

“You’ll love it,” Kira told him. “It has snake venom in it to rejuvenate your pores, you’ll feel like a new man afterwards!”

“It’s going to eat my face off,” Derek said.

“Just go with it,” Allison told him, settling back on Lydia’s pillows and crunching on a Dorito through the mouth hole in her face sheet. 

“That’s right,” Lydia said, sitting back on the computer chair. Her hair was clipped back out of her face so it didn’t come into contact with the facemask and she seemed as though the whole thing was normal for her. “We’ll be here all night otherwise.”

Derek sighed and let Kira slap the sheet over his face, adjusting it so he could see through the eyeholes. It wouldn’t stick properly to his stubble, and he could feel dribbles of the liquid tracking down his neck.

“You need to pat it down, like this,” Kira said, sitting on the edge of the bed near Allison’s feet and patting the sheet onto her face.

Derek tried but half of it still hung off his face. He felt fairly sure he heard at least two camera phones go off, but chose to ignore it for the sake of his sanity.

“I think we’re ready,” said Lydia.

Derek looked up to see the three of them staring at him expectantly, their eyes glowing from behind the white sheets. They looked like the stuff of nightmares, and when he thought about it, he guessed they were if you crossed them. It made his heart swell a little, though he still felt ridiculous.

“If this was really Stiles, he’d have gotten bored and forgotten you were there by now,” said Allison.

“Also, your body language is all wrong,” said Kira. “Open up more.”

Derek unfolded his arms but then he didn’t know what to do with them, so he clasped them in his lap like a grade school kid. “Uh, Stiles?”

Kira’s face sheet crinkled up as she smiled at him. “Hey sexywolf! Are you here for some sort of life threatening crisis, because I’ve been researching the effects of werewolf saliva and how it reacts with mistletoe!” She bounced up and down a little, and Derek couldn’t help but smile at her Stiles impersonation, which made the goop start dripping again.

“There’s no crisis,” Derek said.

“Really?” Kira leaned forward. “So, what are you doing here then? All alone in my room, late at night?” She waggled her eyebrows and the face sheet nearly fell off. She patted it back into place.

Derek was fairly sure the three of them were laughing at him behind their facemasks.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Derek said.

Kira nodded encouragingly.

“I like you? Even though most of the time we kind of annoy each other, I think… we should date?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Cut!”

“That was so bad,” said Allison. 

“We should’ve made score cards,” said Kira. “I give it a three out of ten.”

“Generous,” said Allison. 

Derek felt his scowl deepen. “What was wrong with it?”

“Firstly, you look angry. Secondly, don’t phrase it as a question, that makes it seem as if you’re uncertain of your feelings.”

“And don’t say he’s annoying,” said Allison.

“The twitching was bad too,” added Kira.

Lydia sighed. “Let’s try it again. This time I’ll be Stiles and Allison can be Derek.” She stood up and changed positions with Kira so she could sit by Allison on the bed.

“Stiles,” said Allison in an overly deep voice that sounded nothing like Derek.

“Yes, attractive older werewolf that I may have been pining for so much that I’ve forgotten to notice how cute Lydia looks in her short skirts?”

Derek snorted. Stiles definitely wasn’t _pining_. Though he had noticed that Stiles didn’t look at Lydia the way that he used to any longer. That probably didn’t mean anything though.

“I need to tell you something and I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it,” Allison said, falling back into her normal voice. “But I want you to know that no matter what, your friendship is very important to me. You’re a very important person in my life.”

Derek hunched back into the chair. What she said might have been true, and he didn’t know how _Allison Argent_ of all people knew his innermost feelings, but it didn’t matter because he couldn’t imagine ever saying something like that to Stiles.

“Oh Derek,” Lydia said, taking Allison’s hand. “You’re important to me too, and nothing you could say would change that.”

“Stiles…” Allison moved forward on the bed to get closer to Lydia. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I love you! I love your stupid jokes and your moley skin and your slightly pornographic mouth!”

Lydia moved even closer to Allison, clutching both her hands in her own. Kira sat forward so far in the computer chair that Derek was surprised she didn’t fall off.

“Oh Derek!” Lydia’s voice had gotten very high-pitched, Derek wasn’t sure why. “I love you too! I love your caterpillar eyebrows and your highly defined abs and your monosyllabic conversation!”

Derek scowled so deeply that his facemask fell off. “That’s enough!” he said. 

“But they haven’t kissed yet,” said Kira, slumping back in her chair.

Derek took a deep breath. “Look, this might be a joke to all of you, but…”

“We weren’t joking,” said Allison, peeling off her facemask and giving him bambi eyes. “I mean, it mightn’t go exactly like that, but you need to be straight with him, tell him what you like about him.”

“That’s right, you need to be direct with him,” said Lydia. “Let’s try it again with you being yourself. Just apply the principles we showed you and see how much better it is.” 

Derek sighed. He was never getting out of there.

 

*

When Derek finally escaped from Lydia’s, it was dark. His skin did feel super soft, though, and he was a lot more confident about his love confession.

The lights were on at the Stilinski house when Derek got there, and both cars were parked in the drive. There was no sign of Parrish. He climbed up the usual tree and sat next to Isaac.

“You’re late,” Isaac said. “You smell pretty.”

“I got kidnapped,” Derek told him. “How’s he been today?”

Isaac shrugged. “Normal, for Stiles. Seems like he’s trying less hard to seem normal though. Probably won’t have to do this for much longer.”

“That’s good,” Derek said, nodding. As much as he liked having an excuse to watch over Stiles, he’d much prefer to see Stiles happy and healthy.

“Well, this was fun,” Isaac said. He clapped Derek on the shoulder and jumped from the tree. “See you tomorrow.”

Derek waited a moment, gathered up his nerve, and then slipped in through the back door.

The Stilinski’s were sitting around the kitchen table, relaxed in their chairs with empty plates in front of them.

“Hey, Derek,” said the Sheriff.

“I saved you some dinner, where have you been?” Stiles asked. “You’ve totally been slacking off on your guardwolfing today.”

Derek was surprised for a moment, but then he wasn’t. It was Stiles, after all, if anyone could see through their werewolf stealth and realize they were watching over him, it was Stiles.

“Did you track down that book?” the Sheriff asked, as Stiles got up to uncover a plate from the bench. Derek was momentarily distracted by the smell of food, so he wasn’t fast enough to derail the Sheriff from the topic of conversation.

“What book?” asked Stiles, sitting the plate on the table and making flappy hands for Derek to sit down and eat.

“Uh, no,” Derek said to the Sheriff, sitting down. “But it’s okay.”

The Sheriff raised his eyebrows but didn’t push it.

“ _What book_?” asked Stiles.

Derek pretended to be too distracted by his food to answer. “This is delicious.”

“ _Derek_.”

The Sheriff cleared his throat and pushed back from the table. “I’ll just go get that paperwork we talked about.” He gave Derek an apologetic look and ducked out of the room.

Stiles tapped his foot and glared at Derek until it became too much to ignore. He knew Stiles too well to think he’d let go of something once it caught his attention, but maybe if he passed it off as nothing, Stiles wouldn’t think too much of it.

“The Camus book you said you needed,” he said quickly, shoveling a forkful of mashed potato into his mouth. “I tried to track it down but I couldn’t find it.” Derek focused on the meatloaf next, not looking up at Stiles. It was made from ground turkey but it still tasted pretty good.

When he finished the meatloaf and Stiles still hadn’t said anything, Derek chanced a look.

Stiles gaped at him, his cheeks flushed. “You didn’t need to do that,” he said softly.

“Clearly,” Derek snapped, and then tried not to feel bad about it.

“No, I mean…” Stiles nudged Derek’s ankle with his foot. “Thanks, that was really nice of you.”

Derek shrugged and moved the peas around on his plate. He could feel his ears heating up.

“Okay, boys,” the Sheriff said, poking his head through the kitchen door. “I’m off to bed. I’ll leave this here for you, Derek.” He sat a folder on the bench and waved them off as they said goodnight.

“So, you’re going to be a deputy?” Stiles asked. Everything about him seemed softer than usual, quieter. 

Derek shrugged.

“You’ll be good at it,” Stiles said. The edge of his mouth curled up, as if he was thinking of a million jokes he could make, and Derek thought maybe Stiles didn’t want to break this strange mood that had fallen over them.

It was the moment, Derek knew it. He had to say his bit. His stomach rolled and he felt strangely disconnected from himself, as though someone else had taken control of his motor functions. He hoped whoever it was knew what they were doing.

“Stiles,” he said quietly. Their eyes met and for a moment he could feel it, this _thing_ between them that had been slowly building ever since they met, as if it was something with form that had grown around them, holding them together. In that moment, Derek’s nervousness fell away and he knew this was going to go well. Stiles chewed on his bottom lip and Derek opened his mouth to say what he needed to say.

Suddenly, Stiles jumped to his feet and started collecting up the plates. The mood was broken and Derek needed to shake his head to catch up.

“Sooooo,” Stiles said, clattering around and not looking at Derek. “Deputy Parrish asked me out for dinner and a movie. And I'm not saying it’s a date, because he’s being paid by my dad to spend time with me, but it’s totally a date.” He spoke too quickly and smelled a little nervous, worried, but Derek couldn’t tell if it was just because he knew Derek didn’t like Parrish or because he’d known what Derek was about to say. “I mean, the way he said it implied pretty heavily that it was a date. There was body language and eyes and things.”

“Oh,” said Derek, after a moment too long. “That’s nice.”

Stiles turned to face Derek from where he stood at the sink. He folded his arms over his chest and for a moment his eyes flashed. “Yeah. He’s a nice guy.”

Derek nodded. “He’ll be good for you.”

And the worst part was, it was true. Parrish would be good for Stiles in a way that Derek was too broken to be. Something cold settled inside Derek’s chest, something more than the usual defeat he felt when Parrish beat him. All the words he’d wanted to say to Stiles evaporated, leaving him empty. Lydia had told him he needed to replace all his negative thoughts with positive ones, but Derek was positive about this, positive that Parrish was the best choice for Stiles.

“I should go,” Derek said, standing up abruptly. “Thanks for dinner.”

He made it out the back door but then his legs wobbled and he sat down on the step. He sat there a long time, long after Stiles went to bed. He fell asleep there, leaning against the Stilinski house and counting Stiles’ heartbeats.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek tries to get his shit together and win Stiles back from Parrish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry this chapter took so long! It turned into a bit of a monster, nearly as long as the first two chapters combined, but after wrestling with it, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I hope you guys like it!

Chapter 3

Derek awoke to the sense of someone hovering over him. He reached out and grabbed the person before he’d properly woken up, then blinked his eyes open to realize he had his hand around Scott’s throat.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, snatching his hand back. He blinked against the morning sun and up into Scott’s face. Scott smiled gently at him and Derek dropped his eyes. There was a blanket draped over him, puddled in his lap and stretched down over his knees. It was soft and brown and Stilinski-scented. Derek twisted a loose thread around his finger.

“You could’ve slept inside,” Scott said.

Derek shrugged. “I hadn’t intended on sleeping at all.” He wasn’t sure what he’d intended, hadn’t really been thinking at all. “Is Stiles okay?” Derek asked, not sure what he’d do if something had happened to Stiles while he was sleeping on the job.

“He’s fine,” Scott said, sitting down on the step next to Derek. “Still sleeping.” Scott bumped their shoulders together. “So, Lydia said they had a talk with you yesterday.”

Derek twisted the loose thread even tighter around his finger, watching as all the blood welled up in the end and turned the tip red. He tugged at it and the thread snapped.

“Did you talk to Stiles?” Scott asked.

“He’s got a date with Parrish.” The thread was still tangled around his finger, wound in a way that was impossible to unravel.

Scott choked. “Stiles said that?” Scott sounded a bit wheezy, so Derek clapped him on the back. “After you told him your feelings?”

Derek opened his mouth to answer but before he could figure out how to explain that he hadn’t _exactly_ told Stiles anything but that they seemed to have a silent understanding, Scott cut him off.

“You didn’t, did you? You totally chickened out.” He sighed. “Look, man, I know Stiles is smart when it comes to most things, but this isn’t like solving murders, and no offence but you can be pretty hard to read at the best of times.”

The end of his finger started to turn purple, but the more Derek tried to pick the thread off, the tighter it pulled. “It doesn’t matter. If he likes Parrish, that’s fine. Parrish can make him happy.”

A wave of frustration radiated from Scott so strongly that Derek stopped tugging at the thread and stared at him.

“And what about you?” Scott asked. “Don’t you deserve to be happy too?”

Derek gaped at him in disbelief.

“Look, I’ve got nothing against Deputy Parrish, he seems like a nice guy, but until you say something you won’t know for sure. And I know we haven’t always gotten along that well, but we’re wolf brothers now, so I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

“Wolf brothers?” Derek asked.

Scott grinned goofily at him. “That’s what Stiles calls us,” he said. He nudged Derek with his elbow. “So you’re stuck with me, I guess.” 

Derek forced a smile for Scott’s benefit. It amazed him, when he thought about it, that he and Scott had gotten to a point where they could talk like this, where Scott said they were brothers as if it was something he welcomed. Scott wasn’t his alpha; his mother had been his alpha, and then Laura, and Derek wasn’t sure if he’d ever think of Scott that way. Scott was more the Luke Skywalker to Derek’s Obi Wan, or maybe to Derek’s Han Solo, because Han was also the cool one, and he kind of liked the idea of Stiles as Leia. At any rate, they were still pack, and even if it was unconventional, Derek thought it worked for them. He glanced at Scott and his smile turned genuine.

Scott got to his feet and brushed off his jeans. “Stiles is waking up, you coming in for breakfast?”

Derek shook his head. Parrish would be there soon and Derek didn’t want to see the two of them together, wasn’t sure if it would make him cry or if he’d turn feral and eat Parrish’s entrails, but either way it wouldn’t be pretty. 

"It doesn't seem like you to back down from a fight," said Scott.

"It's not a fight, Scott. It's the opposite of that."

"You're really giving up on him?" Scott asked, his face scrunching up like a sad puppy. "He's never given up on you, you know. Not once."

Derek snorted. "He's advocated for my death on more than one occasion."

Scott bit his lip like his was stifling a smile, remembering good times. "He didn't mean it though. Well, maybe at first. But that doesn’t mean he didn't try to help you, he's always done anything he could to help you, no matter how much he bitched about it. He never gave up on you all those times we thought you were dead either, so I don't think you should give up on him now. Not yet." He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at Derek in a way that Derek could remember doing to Scott and Stiles, to his betas.

"And you really think this is a good idea? Me and Stiles?"

Scott wrinkled his nose. "Well, you're both my like brothers, so I want you to be happy. But because you're my brothers it's kind of incesty and weird. But I'd rather you be together and weird than apart and miserable, so I guess I'm more for it than against?"

Derek bunched the blanket up in his hands, held onto it tightly as if it would give him some sort of comfort or guidance. "Fine," he said. "I won't give up yet, but if Stiles decides he wants to be with Parrish seriously, I'm not going to come between them."

Scott nodded, satisfied.

Derek got to his feet and handed the blanket to Scott, then he remembered something. “I left something inside, some papers, do you think you could grab them for me? Oh, and thanks for the blanket.”

Scott took the blanket, as he headed inside. “Wasn’t me, dude, but I’ll pass it on.”

Derek tipped his head back to look up at Stiles’ window while he waited for Scott, his nostrils flaring. He’d assumed Scott had given him the blanket, and it was one thing for Scott to approach him while he was sleeping and for Derek not to wake up, Scott was another wolf in the same pack, but if it were Stiles then this whole thing was much worse than Derek had thought. That meant a level of trust Derek hadn’t intended reaching with anyone ever again. Derek sighed heavily. 

He was so fucked.

*

Derek spent the next few days studying for the deputy exam, dividing his time between the library and the loft. The exam was in a few weeks time and the Sheriff had got him in just before the cutoff, but Derek had read that most people studied for months beforehand. He wasn't terribly worried, he was fairly interested in what he was studying, so he remembered it easily, and despite what the pack might have thought, he wasn't actually an idiot.

The nights he spent on Stileswatch, propped up in the tree outside Stiles' window. Scott and Isaac had been doing less of the watching Stiles and more of the just hanging out when they felt like it, Scott said he thought Stiles was fine and didn't need them babysitting him, but Derek knew that it was when you dropped your guard that everything went to shit. And it wasn't a hardship, he liked sitting there, listening as Stiles' heartbeat slowed down as he fell asleep. Sometimes he read on his phone but most of the time he just sat, catching the faint threads of Stiles' scent and thinking things over.

He thought about the best way to tell Stiles how he felt, he thought about that most of all. He thought about where he'd gone wrong, things he should've done, things he'd do better next time. His plan hadn’t worked, and he thought maybe it was because he’d been looking at it all wrong. Stiles already knew him, he knew all about Derek’s strengths and his interests, and a hell of a lot more than that besides. He didn’t need to prove to Stiles that they’d make a good pair, Stiles either already thought that or he didn’t, what he needed to do was prove to Stiles that he cared enough about him to make it worth the risk, and the only real way to do that was to tell him.

He’d texted Stiles not long after he’d spoken to Scott. Even though the timing was all wrong, and it would make Derek feel like an A-grade asshole to throw Stiles off his game before his date, he knew he had to get it over with. Once the words were out there, everything would work itself out. Like lancing a boil, you just had to get out what was festering. So he texted Stiles, said they needed to talk. Alone. Stiles could pick the time and place. But he hadn’t heard back, so of a day he studied and of a night he guarded Stiles, and in the in-between times he napped.

Derek was a loser, he knew that. He'd lost everything when he was seventeen and he'd kept losing ever since. But that didn't mean he always had to be one. Stiles deserved better than a loser, and Derek thought maybe he deserved better than to be one. 

Something Allison had said to him stuck in his mind, that nobody could expect Stiles to _fix_ Derek. She'd said if he wanted to be fixed, it was something he had to do himself. But Derek didn't think he needed fixing. He wasn't really broken. He might not be shiny and new anymore, he was like one of those books he'd looked through at the secondhand store. He had a few dog-eared corners, maybe some water damage, a page missing here or there, but he didn't think it interrupted his narrative flow too badly, all the important parts were still there, and an interested reader could still find many delights between his covers. And maybe if he tried really hard, he could rewrite the missing pages, make them better and then tape them into place, and he supposed that was what Allison had been getting at. He had shit to get together, shit that his neat little book metaphor wouldn't cover, but he felt like he was at least heading in the right direction.

And he thought that maybe Stiles had a few dog-eared pages of his own.

It was soothing, sitting out in the night, getting his thoughts in order, so close to Stiles. It made him feel safe in a way he hadn’t been in years. He wasn't creeping, because he was on Stileswatch and even the Sheriff knew he was there, Stiles too, if the way he'd made a show of leaving the window unlocked before he went to bed was any indication. But Derek didn't go inside. Stiles hadn’t texted him back, so Derek waited. 

If the night got too cold, or he started doubting himself again, he took to thumbing through his phone, reading the random texts from the pack that he supposed were meant to be encouraging. Isaac sent him things like, “you’re my second favorite person to have bitten me”, which he didn’t want to ask about, and “Stiles always smells like boners when you’re around, did you notice?”. Kira kept forwarding him inspirational messages about loving yourself, and mirrors and rainbows, and there were several from each of the girls saying variations of “go Team Derek!” There was even one message from Chris Argent about seizing happiness with both hands while he had the chance. He appreciated the effort they were all going to, and it did make him feel better, but he knew that nothing anyone else said could change Stiles’ feelings, whatever they were.

The closer Friday got, the more unsettled Derek felt. He checked in with Scott, but Stiles’ phone was definitely operational, and he knew Stiles didn’t have broken fingers or any other type of physical impairment that kept him from replying to texts. He texted Cora, and when she didn’t reply he started feeling a bit better, there was obviously some issue with his phone, but then she messaged back him early Thursday morning and his heart sank, which he felt was an inappropriate response to hearing from his back-from-the-dead baby sister.

Stiles clearly didn’t want to talk to him. He either knew what Derek was going to say and didn’t want to hear it, or he just didn’t want to spend time alone with Derek. And Derek understood, he could respect that. He didn’t want to force Stiles into a situation he’d be uncomfortable with. 

The night before the date, Derek couldn’t settle. He couldn’t read and not even the calming scent of the Stilinski house eased his mind. The Sheriff was on the late shift and Stiles had fallen asleep with his laptop propped up on his belly not long after the police cruiser had pulled out of the drive. The night was still, so every sound from Stiles’ room seemed louder, intensified, and the only thing Derek felt able to focus on was the soft inhale and exhale of Stiles’ breath. He listened to it for hours, and in the darkness it became the only thing that was real, that quiet proof of life. He noticed immediately when it changed, when Stiles’ breath turned shuddery and his heartbeat sped up. Derek didn’t immediately rush to Stiles’ room like he had the first time, he paused before he moved, waiting to see if the bad dream would pass.

Derek moved cautiously toward Stiles’ window, not sure how welcome he’d be if he was inside when Stiles woke up, but Stiles whimpered again and his scent was overwhelming with Derek so close, and all Derek really wanted to do was to go to him and wrap him up with comfort and safety so he’d never make those hurt, broken noises again. He let instinct take over and moved in through the window, to Stiles’ side. 

It felt different than the first time. Scott wasn’t there for a start, Derek was alone with Stiles in his room. Stiles was curled in on himself, with one arm outstretched as if he were grasping for something. Derek crouched beside the bed and caught hold of Stiles’ hand, lacing their fingers together. He felt Stiles relax almost immediately. His fingers tightened around Derek’s but the tension eased from the rest of his body and the cloying scent of Stiles’ distress retreated, lifting like a veil around them.

Derek lost track of time, kneeling there, his thumb running back and forward across Stiles’ knuckles. He watched Stiles’ chest rise and fall with each breath, the flicker of his eyelashes against his cheeks, counted the moles scattered across his face. It felt strange to see Stiles like that, so still, so vulnerable. It felt so right to him, for them to be there in the quiet night together, and he suddenly realized he never wanted anyone else to see this side of Stiles, he wanted to keep it for himself.

He also realized that Stiles wasn’t exactly sharing the moment with him, Stiles didn't even know he was there, not on a conscious level. It made him feel like a creeper in a way he didn’t usually, no matter what Stiles said, and Stiles had been settled for a while now, so he had to reason to stay there. He slowly pulled his hand away from Stiles’, unraveling them from each other.

Before he could pull away too far, Stiles groaned and grabbed his hand back. Derek froze. He pulled Derek’s hand in and tucked it under his chin.

“Don’t go,” he said, his voice rough from sleep, hardly more than a whisper. He nuzzled into Derek’s wrist, his nose brushing over Derek’s pulse point. “Stay with me, Derek.”

The sound of Derek’s heart pounding filled the room and he was sure it would completely wake Stiles at any moment. But within seconds, Stiles was fast asleep again. Derek was propped awkwardly against the bed, so he settled in more comfortably, laying his forearms down and resting his head on them so that he could still see Stiles’ face, so close to his own.

He woke just before dawn, feeling more rested than he had in an age. Stiles’ arms were wrapped around his forearm like he was cuddling a teddy bear. They’d moved even closer in sleep. Stiles’ lips were dry and full and only millimeters from his own, and Derek wanted to trace them with his own, test to see if they were as soft as they looked. Derek felt something expand in his chest, like when he heard the perfect song at exactly the right time or saw something unexpectedly beautiful. The feeling inflated like a balloon until it felt too big for his body to contain, it prickled at his eyes as if it were trying to overflow out of him.

He pulled back, carefully twisted his arm out of Stiles’ grip. He didn’t want to leave, wanted to see Stiles’ eyes blink open sleepily, wanted to see him break into a smile and pull Derek down beside him, but he didn’t think it would really go like that. If Stiles woke up with them so closely tangled together, things would probably get weird, and Derek wanted to do this properly.

He was halfway home when he texted Scott. “I think I need help.”

It was late in the morning and Derek was surrounded by books when he got the reply.

“Leave it to me bro! Go Team Derek!”

*

Derek had nodded off later on when Scott showed up and kidnapped him. It seemed to be early evening, and by the time Derek stopped being too bleary-headed to wonder what was going on, they were downtown.

“Wolf bro bonding,” Scott explained as they got out of the car. “So you don’t sit around all night moping.”

“I wasn’t moping, I was _sleeping_.” 

Scott shrugged. “Let’s go eat,” he said, ducking into a little Chinese place that Derek had never really noticed before. 

They sat by the window and Scott ordered enough dumplings to feed an army. While they waited for the food, Derek sipped at his complimentary tea and Scott compulsively checked his phone and kept glancing out the window.

“What’s going on, Scott?”

Scott glanced up at him with wide, innocent eyes that didn’t fool Derek for a second. He opened his mouth to say something and Derek could smell the lie even before he spoke.

“Oh look, food’s here!” Scott stuffed a dumpling in his mouth before the waiter had even sat the plate on the table. After a second, Scott’s eyes bulged and his mouth hung open, giving Derek a full view of his partially chewed food. “Hot! Hot hot hot hot hot.”

Derek rolled his eyes fondly and poured some soy sauce into his bowl. The dumplings were good, comforting, and he watched Scott shrewdly as they ate, but Scott gave nothing away. Soon enough, they were down to the last dumpling.

“How many have you had?” Derek asked. He hadn’t thought to keep count.

Scott shrugged, face scrunched up as he tried to remember. His nose unwrinkled and he tried to bite down on a smile, and Derek had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at how completely unsneaky Scott was. Scott was armed with a fork, and therefore had the advantage, but Derek had grown up in a house full of hungry werewolves. Derek plucked up the dumpling with his chopsticks and a smirk, and was about to dunk it in the sauce when something outside caught his attention.

“Is that sirens?” he asked Scott, tilting his head to the side. He saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and turned to look out the window to see a fire engine pull up outside the fancy Italian place down the street.

Derek turned back to Scott. “What did you do?”

Scott grinned and shook his head. “Should we order more dumplings?”

Derek chewed on his food thoughtfully, keeping one eye on the proceedings outside. The people flooded outside of the restaurant, crowding around the street. A few other official-looking cars pulled up, and finally a cruiser from the Sheriff’s department.

“Just relax,” said Scott. “There’s nothing you can do about it. You should eat more.”

“You sound like my grandmother,” Derek told him.

Then Derek saw him, walking down the opposite side of the street next to Parrish, waving his arms around as he talked, and laughing. Derek thought if he really concentrated he could probably hear what he was saying, but he didn’t want to. He still had that feeling from the morning locked up tight in his heart, the special closeness they’d shared like breathing the same air. He didn't want to lose that, but seeing him together with Parrish like that, so carelessly happy, it burned at that feeling, and Derek turned away from the window before it could become ashes.

“Um,” said Scott, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Whatever you’re planning isn’t going to work,” said Derek.

“You said you wanted help,” Scott said. “This is us helping.”

“Us?” Derek balanced his chopsticks carefully over his bowl. “What have you done?”

Scott chewed on his lip and looked up at Derek through his lashes. “Well, Parrish was paying for that fancy dinner, and you know Stiles loves Italian, Derek. He’s a man helpless against pasta, you can’t blame him for it. So, we got some… stuff…”

Derek raised his eyebrows, feeling that adequately implied the question.

“Like, from the preserve. Some mice and frogs, maybe a snake or two. Nothing poisonous!”

Derek raised his eyebrows even further.

“Well, probably not, anyway. And don’t look at me like that, you clearly haven’t tasted Mama Boccelli’s cannelloni or you’d know what a dangerous situation this was.”

“You released wild animals into an Italian restaurant to sabotage Stiles’ date?”

Scott nodded.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort, Scott.” And he did. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had done for him in years. “But did you think about the other people having dinner? Did you think about how scared the animals would be? Or how the health and safety people will investigate the restaurant now? Or how Stiles actually deserves to have a nice dinner out?”

“Well, maybe you should take him for a nice dinner out,” Scott mumbled, staring down at the table.

“Hey,” said Derek, nudging Scott’s foot with his own. “Thank you. What you were trying to do…” He sighed. “I do appreciate it.”

Scott’s lip twitched. “Can you imagine their faces though?”

Derek could, and he had to look away so he wouldn’t laugh.

“I suppose you probably won’t like phase two either.”

Derek groaned. This wasn’t going to end well.

*

“I can’t get in touch with them,” Scott said, phone pressed to his ear as he and Derek rushed to the cinema.

“Stiles isn’t picking up either,” Derek said.

“We could call the actual cinema,” Scott suggested.

Derek shook his head, hanging up as Stiles’ voicemail message ended. “Do you actually want Kira and Allison arrested for reckless endangerment?”

“The movie hasn’t started yet, so we might get there in time,” Scott said, as they raced up the cinema steps. “They should still be having dinner really, so we should make it.”

Isaac met them in front of the concession stand, picking through a bag of gummi worms. He looked surprised to see Derek there.

“Abort mission,” Scott whispered.

Isaac bit a gummi worm between his teeth and pulled so that it stretched out long. He let go and it bounced back and hit his teeth. “Too late. Stiles showed up like ten minutes ago and they went to an earlier session.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the doors of cinema 4. “Allison and Kira are already in place.”

“Okay,” said Derek. “So we go in, find them and then get out. We can do that without Stiles seeing us, right?” They were wolves, ninja wolves, they could be stealthy inside a darkened cinema, surely.

Scott snorted. “It’s _Stiles_ , dude. Have you ever known him not to notice something?”

“We could just pull the fire alarm,” said Isaac, poking through his gummi worms.

It would work, Derek thought, but they’d already called out the fire department at the restaurant, and it didn’t seem fair to all the legitimately paying movie-goers to have their night ruined. “Let’s make that a last resort,” he said.

Isaac shrugged, like he didn’t really care either way.

“Okay,” said Scott. “So, Derek and I will go in. We can stay low and find Allison and Kira before they detonate anything. Stiles always sits near the back, in the center, but the girls were going to stay near the front to avoid being seen.”

“Plus, maximum impact that way.” Isaac held out his bag and Derek shook his head.

“Isaac, you stay here and keep watch. Howl if anything goes wrong.”

Derek didn’t think howling was terribly subtle, but he also thought it was very wrong to keep your phone on when entering a cinema, so they were low on alternatives. He left Scott with Isaac and went to buy tickets for the movie.

The screen was lit up with a series of explosions when Scott and Derek entered, so they could see around the room fairly clearly. That also meant that they were highly visible should Stiles be glancing around, so Derek did a quick drop-and-roll into the closest row of seats. A girl a few seats down gave him a disbelieving look, but Derek ignored her.

Scott crab-walked over to him and whispered loudly, “I can’t see the girls.”

Derek risked a quick look over the back of the seat, popping his head up and back down so quickly he felt like a whack-a-mole. That was when he heard the first explosion. There was a whistling sound and then a bang, and the theatre lit up with sparkly lights. A few people screamed and some others dropped to the ground, and then more firecrackers went off and everything was pandemonium. The movie whirred to a stop as the sprinklers came on and people started rushing for the exits with their hands over their heads. Derek and Scott climbed up onto the seats out of the way, and as the lights flickered on, Derek met Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles stood a few rows back from them, arms folded across his chest, glaring at Derek. Which Derek thought was highly unfair, considering none of this it had been his idea. Derek glared back and the rest of the world faded to black and white around them. He barely noticed the last few people leaving the cinema, Scott, Allison and Kira regrouping, or Parrish standing next to Stiles. Derek knew the look on Stiles’ face well, Stiles was _pissed_. When Derek opened his mouth to speak, Stiles grabbed Parrish’s hand and started pulling him toward the exit. Derek put out his hand to stop him, but Stiles brushed past, not even looking over at Scott and the others.

“Well,” said Kira, biting her lip. “That went well.”

*

Derek caught up to Stiles in the parking lot. They were almost back at the jeep, and even though everything was apparently going to shit, Derek was pleased to note that Stiles had dropped Parrish’s hand.

“Stiles,” Derek called.

Stiles kept walking, but Derek knew he’d heard from the way his shoulders squared. His step didn’t falter and his heart was pounding so quickly that Derek couldn’t tell if it had sped up or skipped. Before Stiles could open the door to the jeep, Derek broke into a jog, catching up to him just as Stiles swung the door open and was about to climb in. He grabbed Stiles by the sleeve of his hoodie, and Stiles spun around to face him, his eyes blazing so fiercely they were almost beta gold. He looked pale but there were blotches of red high on his cheeks, creeping downward the longer he glared at Derek. Derek thought he’d never been so beautiful, like something more fierce and wild than Derek had ever seen.

“Derek, you do not want to start this with me right now.”

Derek didn’t doubt it for a second. He knew what it meant, the way Stiles’ eyes narrowed and nostrils flared, but had only ever seen it before when Stiles was pushed right to the breaking point, when somebody’s life was in danger. From the way he pulled his arm out of Derek’s grip, Derek thought maybe his life was.

He stepped back, not far enough for Stiles to leave but far enough to give him some space, and held his hand up in surrender.

“Stiles,” he said in his gentlest voice, but Stiles cut him off.

“Is this funny to you?” Stiles’ voice was sharp like claws and it raked at him. “Stiles is such a loser so when he finally, _finally_ gets a date with someone he might actually like, wouldn’t it be a great joke to screw it up in every way possible. Yeah, really hilarious, Derek. Ha ha _ha_.”

Derek opened his mouth to explain himself, to try to make Stiles realize that he had nothing to do with this, that the last thing he thought was that Stiles was a loser. Stiles put up a hand to stop Derek, and with his hand rose a wall of anger, an insurmountable barrier that completely cut Stiles off from him.

“No.” Stiles shook his head. “Whatever you were about to say, just don’t. I get it, okay. You’ve got this competitive thing going on with Parrish, but it is _not_ okay to put me in the middle of that, and I thought you of all people would be better than that.”

Derek glared over at Parrish, where he stood on the other side of the jeep. He didn’t know what Parrish had told Stiles but he’d clearly made it sound much worse than it was. Parrish shook his head.

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Stiles said. “He didn’t need to. You only start acting interested in me after I start spending time with your schoolboy rival, text me wanting to talk the day after we arrange a date, it’s not exactly Machiavellian of you, buddy.”

Derek felt his anger rise to match Stiles’ and tried to push it down, but it wasn’t easy. Anger had been his anchor but it had changed, shifted and become Stiles, and now the two of them were twisted up together and pulling at him.

“If you think that, you’re an idiot,” Derek said through gritted teeth.

Stiles’ wall of anger dropped just a fraction but didn’t fall completely. He sighed. “Yeah, yeah I am.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Just, leave me alone, Derek. No more sitting outside my window. No more following me around. Just, no more.” He pushed Derek away and turned to get in the jeep, but suddenly turned back and pointed to a spot over Derek’s shoulder, where Scott, Allison and Kira were hanging back. “And don’t think you motherfuckers are forgiven, either. There was a frog in my minestrone, I’ll probably never eat again.”

He got in the car, waited for Parrish to buckle up, and then drove away, leaving the four of them staring after him.

“Nobody is allowed to tell Lydia she was right,” said Scott, using his alpha voice.

*

Derek threw himself into studying. He didn’t answer messages from the pack, ate and slept only when he needed to, and tried not to think of anything beyond the walls of his loft.

He hated missing his Stileswatch. It made him feel like he had one time when he was a kid and his dog had gone missing overnight, and he’d lain awake imagining every possible worst case scenario. But Mr Chuckles had come home the next morning smelling like adventure and dead rabbit, and Derek was sure it would be the same with Stiles. And he trusted that the pack would let him know if anything bad happened. _And_ Stiles had made it clear he didn’t want Derek around, and was probably too busy being all love-love with Parrish to even get into any trouble anyway. If he had bad dreams and needed someone in the night, Parrish would probably be there to comfort him, to hold his hand and brush the hair back from his face, and Derek was the idiot for worrying.

Three days after Disaster Date Friday, the pack showed up in his loft with pizza and opinions.

“You can’t go all radio silence on us like that,” Scott said as he dumped the pizza boxes on top of a stack of books on the coffee table, then proceeded to search through each box for the pepperoni. “We worry about you, man.”

Derek tried to hide his nest of blankets behind the sofa without anyone noticing and glared at them all while he leaned forward to slide the empty coffee cups on the floor out of sight.

Isaac wrinkled his nose. “You should probably shower.” Though he sat down next to Derek and pulled the box of Hawaiian into his lap, so the smell mustn’t have bothered him too much

Allison handed Derek a stack of papers. “The Sheriff asked me to give you these, they’re practice exams. He also said he blames you for all the angry salad he’s being force-fed.”

“We explained to Stiles. Well, kind of.” Kira shrugged and sat down on the floor. “We had to yell through his door because he wouldn’t open up.”

“He smells less angry now,” Scott said.

Lydia stood with her arms folded across her chest, tapping her foot. She made a tsk noise and Derek braced himself for her to say all the things that were flickering across her face.

“You need more seating options,” she told him, so he shuffled over so she could squeeze in between him and Isaac. She ignored the pizza and took the papers out of Derek’s hands, flicking through them and making little humming noises. “The exam is Monday?” She peeled a post-it off one of the exams and stuck it on Derek’s arm without looking up.

The post-it said, “bring these in to me when you’re done, I’ll look them over. And bring food, not salad.” The “not salad” was underlined five times.

They spent the next few evenings like that, sprawled around Derek’s loft and eating takeout, Lydia drilling him on the practice questions while the others did their homework. He would’ve felt guilty about taking Lydia away from her studies, only he remembered Stiles telling him ages ago that Lydia was so far ahead she could probably graduate already if she wanted.

It was nice, comforting, to be surrounded by pack with everyone relaxed and nobody in mortal peril, the biggest stress their econ test on Friday. Derek should’ve been content, happy even, but he felt the lack of Stiles like a cold draft, always finding him, chilling him. They didn’t talk about it but he knew the others felt it too. Sometimes when Scott came in, he’d smell of Stiles a little, but Derek knew things still weren’t great, because when Scott would make a dumb joke and look to Stiles to laugh and he wasn’t there, his eyes turned sad. They all missed him. Lydia would open her mouth to say something, then snap it closed, and all of them stared vaguely at the vacant spot where Stiles should be, as though waiting for him to fill the silences.

Lydia’s study methods were brutal and involved threats of bodily harm that she sometimes followed through on, but by Saturday morning, Derek felt that he’d perfected the practice exams. He picked up some coffees and bagels, hoping that was a suitable yet still relatively healthy alternative to angry salad, and stopped in at the Sheriff’s station. A deputy he didn’t recognize waved him through and he was halfway to the Sheriff’s office before he noticed Stiles. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring.

Stiles looked good, fresh like he hadn’t in so long, since the summer, maybe. He leaned against Parrish’s desk with his legs crossed at the ankles, shoulders relaxed and a smile tugging at his lips. He was healing, Derek realized, healing from everything that had happened, and the time away from Derek had obviously done wonders. Or maybe it was just Parrish, if the way Stiles’ eyes sparkled as he listened to Parrish was any indication. And it was still early in the morning, and the jeep was definitely not parked outside, Derek would’ve noticed, and he could put two and two together and get that Stiles probably came in that morning with Parrish, and everything that implied.

Derek was pleased Stiles looked so healthy and happy, he genuinely was, and it should’ve been enough. Maybe Derek _was_ as bad as he’d been trying to convince himself he wasn’t, because there was a sharp feeling in his gut, like being stabbed with an icepick. Worse, because Derek had been stabbed enough times to know it was only temporary, he would heal as if nothing had happened, but he couldn’t imagine healing from _this_. This was going to leave a scar.

Stiles looked up and immediately tensed when he met Derek’s eye. Derek did the only thing he could think of and bolted into the Sheriff’s office, locking the door behind him.

“Everything okay, son?” the Sheriff asked, glancing up from his paperwork and giving off an odd mix of amusement and concern.

“I brought breakfast,” Derek said, taking the seat opposite the Sheriff and adopting an air of nonchalance as he passed over the coffee and bagels.

The door handle jiggled and there was an exasperated sigh from the other side, then sharp knocking.

“Good bagels,” said the Sheriff, slightly louder than normal. “From the bakery on Wilson Street?”

Derek nodded.

“Really mature, Derek,” Stiles called through the crack under the door. Derek could just imagine him crouched down there, trying to see through the gap at the bottom where the blind didn’t quite cover the glass. “Just so you know, it was a really low blow setting Lydia on me. Totally not cool, man.”

Derek’s ears were burning as he handed the exam papers over to the Sheriff, but the Sheriff took them without a word, and they ate in silence as the Sheriff looked over the papers, making an occasional note. It felt too awkward to break the silence to explain that he hadn’t set anyone on Stiles, least of all Lydia.

“I can do this all day,” Stiles called. “You know I can.”

The more Stiles knocked, the more the Sheriff’s amusement grew and his concern faded, but he didn’t say anything to Derek, he seemed to realize Derek didn’t want to talk about it and Derek figured that was part of what made him such a good cop, that he could read people like that. He’d have made a great werewolf.

“And Scott said you’d made a little wolfy nest and were crying into your blankets, and that I should be ashamed of myself for not apologizing to you.”

Derek rolled his eyes, relieved that there was nobody around other than Parrish who could overhear Stiles’ lack of subtlety. He was amazed that there was anyone at all left in Beacon Hills who didn’t know about werewolves at this point.

“But I’m not going to apologize because you’re still an idiot.”

He really wished he’d developed the ability that everyone else seemed to have of tuning Stiles out, but Stiles had always been able to cut directly through to him, as if he were tuned to a higher frequency that only Derek could hear.

“I’m just saying, there’s a possibility I may have been a little harsh, and that’s maybe something we could discuss. If you just. Open. The freaking. Door.” The last few words were punctuated by heavier thuds, as though Stiles had graduated from knocking to kicking the door, and Derek wasn’t sure how Stiles had contorted his body to do that while crouched down to yell underneath the door, but it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to visualize while seated opposite Stiles’ father.

The Sheriff cleared his throat and tapped the papers against the desk to neaten the pile. “You’re gonna do great,” he said, handing the papers back. The thudding at the door continued. “I’ve marked a few things but it looks like you’ll pass with flying colors. You all prepared? Know where the place is? Got enough pens and pencils?”

Derek nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Dereeeeeek.” Thud. Thud. “Open the dooooor. Dereeeeeeek.”

“Okay, well, when you’re done, give me a call and tell me how you went. We’re still pretty short-staffed around here, so if you want to pick up a few shifts on the front desk, maybe do some clerical work, we can get you all settled in before you officially start.” He stood up and extended his hand.

Derek shook it. “Sounds good.” He dropped the Sheriff’s hand and stared at the door. The thuds hadn’t stopped. Derek glanced at the window but the Sheriff raised his eyebrows in a way that said that was not a valid exit strategy.

Derek squared his shoulders. He could do it. He was a predator, a ferocious beast, even, and he wouldn’t be defeated by a gangly seventeen year old, no matter how pretty his eyes were when they sparkled. He let out a deep breath and approached the door.

“Nice knowing you,” he heard the Sheriff mumble.

Derek swung the door open and Stiles fell at his feet. He’d apparently been thumping the door with his head, Derek could see a large red splotch blooming right in the middle of his forehead.

He twisted around and glared up at Derek. “About time.”

Derek was a predator, but even the fiercest beast knows when it’s outmatched. He leapt over Stiles and hurried down the hallway, toward the exit. He wasn’t running away like a scared bunny, he was a predator. It was a tactical retreat. A day may come when Derek could stand to be let down gently by Stiles. A day may come when he could slip back to that careful friendship, and hear all about how happy Stiles and Parrish were together. But it was not this day.

He was almost back to his car before he got caught. He tugged his arm out of the person’s grip, unprepared to face Stiles down, frantically trying to think of an excuse to get away, but it wasn’t Stiles at all.

“You really need to learn to relax,” Parrish said, smiling affably.

Derek folded his arms over his chest, which was kind of awkward while holding the paperwork, but worth it for the way it made Parrish take a step back.

“I don’t think I want to take life advice from you.”

Parrish raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure, because my life is pretty awesome.”

Derek told himself that Parrish would soon be a coworker and it would be bad form to rip his throat out in the middle of the street.

“Look,” Parrish said. “Stiles and I aren’t together. He’s great and I like him a lot, but it was pretty clear from the start he’s only interested in one person.” He blinked his stupid eyes at Derek. “I just thought we could have some fun, you know? He needs some fun. And that would maybe give you a little push to get your act together and tell him how you feel, but now it’s all gone wrong and there’s no fun in people being miserable.” Parrish rolled his eyes and huffed. He smelled frustrated but it didn’t seem to be directed at Derek, more toward Parrish himself. “I’ve only ever tried to be your friend, but somehow it always seems to backfire.”

Derek snorted.

Parrish blinked at him again.

“You honestly expect me to believe that everything you’ve done was to be nice?” Derek thought back over everything Parrish had done to him, every slight against his person, but Derek couldn’t help but see all his old grievances in a new light. Parrish _had_ saved him that time at Seventh Grade camp. He had still beaten Derek at everything, that was true, but when he thought about it, he realized that Parrish had been the one to include him in all those things. At the time, Derek had thought it had only been so that Parrish could mock him when he lost but maybe he’d just been projecting. And Parrish couldn’t have known that Derek had intended to ask Carrie Hopkins to the Spring dance. And he probably hadn’t purposely been charming to everyone just to spite Derek. Parrish had never been outright _mean_ to Derek, he’d just been _better_ , and if Derek were to be fair, he supposed Parrish probably couldn’t help that.

It did still seem unnatural though.

“Fine,” Derek said. He scuffed his shoe against the sidewalk. “Can I go now?”

Parrish grinned and punched him on the shoulder. “Does that make us buddies now?”

Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t say no.

“Just, go easy on Stiles. He’s awkward as hell at the best of times. Nearly as bad as you.”

“Don’t push it, Parrish.”

Parrish grinned again and started heading back into the station. “We should go for a beer some time,” he said. “Now that we’re bros.”

“You’re still a dick,” Derek said, but he couldn’t help smiling.

*

The pack had invited themselves over for another study session, which Derek thought was a strange and unnatural way for teenagers to spend a Saturday night, but he didn’t say anything in case they changed their minds. He knew they’d show up whenever the hell they felt like it, but he figured he’d have time for a nap before they got there. 

He stopped off to get some food on the way home from the station, because they’d all been eating so much takeout he was worried they’d get scurvy, then he got sidetracked by a homewares shop, where he bought an unreasonably large amount of floor cushions, because he was sick of hearing Lydia complain about the lack of seating.

The shopping took longer than he expected. He’d had to calculate the nutritional value of chips and dips versus mini quiches, and his hunt for aesthetically pleasing floor cushions had been long and fruitless. When he finally got back to the loft it was already early afternoon and he was more than ready for his nap. His arms were so full, grocery bags hooked around his fingers, cushions piled so high he had to tuck them under his chin to see. He managed to unlock his door without incident, but the cushions wobbled precariously when he tried to slide it closed with his foot, so it took him a moment to notice that someone was standing in his loft, looking out the windows.

“Stiles!” he said, cushions spilling out of his arms.

Stiles turned to face him and fixed him with a glare. “I’m angry with you, so stop trying to be cute.”

Derek stared blankly at him, not sure how to react. He still hadn’t processed everything that had happened that morning, he’d been putting it off until after his nap. Eventually, he forced himself into action and shuffled his way inside, kicking the cushions as he went until they were arranged in a more or less artistic fashion in the middle of the floor.

Stiles folded his arms and waited for Derek to sit the grocery bags down on the sofa before he spoke.

“Those are some butt ugly cushions, buddy.”

Derek shrugged. “If you just came here to judge my ugly cushions, then you can leave,” he said, and then winced, because he wasn’t angry with Stiles, he was just nervous and a little bit afraid, and when he was nervous and afraid, sometimes he couldn’t stop himself from sounding like a bit of a jerk, even if he didn’t mean it. He pressed his lips together so nothing else could escape without his approval.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I actually came to apologize, but if you’re going to be a dick about it, I won’t bother.” He started moving away from the window, and Derek’s heart seized as he realized that this was it, if Stiles left now it would be forever. He had to do something, anything to stop that from happening.

“I’m sorry too,” he bit out, still sounding angry, but at least the words were the right ones.

Stiles stopped moving. “What for?”

It felt like a test. He’d been studying all this time, but for a totally different subject, and for a moment it was like one of those dreams where you get your exam paper and it’s all written in a foreign language, but then he forced himself to calm down. Because he had this. This was his best subject, something he’d been studying this whole time. He hadn’t just been watching Stiles, he’d been learning him, every facet of him. He was an expert on Stiles, he’d majored in him, could probably be a Ph.D candidate in Stiles, he’d studied so hard.

“For running away,” he said. He wasn’t able to meet Stiles’ eye, so he stared at a brown velvet cushion with embossed roses. “For running away and leaving you behind. You’ve never done that and I shouldn’t have either. I should’ve been honest with you. I should’ve given you all the information and let you decide what to do. I shouldn't have let you think you were just some prize, even for a second.”

“You were a dick.”

Derek nodded, not looking up, even though he could hear Stiles moving closer.

“I was a dick too.”

Derek did look up then. Stiles stood across from him, an ocean of ugly cushions between them. His eyes sparkled, but his face was serious.

“I got the overprotective Dad speech. From _my_ Dad. About _you_. The ‘if you hurt him, I’ll hurt you’ speech. I’d imagined how funny it would be when he gave you the speech a thousand times. The look on your face!” Stiles huffed but he was smiling. He ran his hands through his hair and stared at his feet. “I’m sorry too. I was a dick and I should’ve trusted you. You watched over me, looked out for me, like you always have. You tried to get me that stupid book and you let Lydia and Allison and Kira kidnap you into a sleepover, oh yeah, I know everything buddy, the facemasks and The Notebook and everything.” Stiles poked at a lurid green cushion with the toe of his shoe. His eyes flicked up to meet Derek’s. “I shouldn’t have let you believe I had feelings for Parrish when I don’t. There’s only one person I have feelings for.”

Derek’s ears were burning again, and it was hard to maintain his usual cool exterior. He crouched down to rearrange the cushions.

“You have feelings?” he asked in an offhand manner, though his voice stuck a bit. He clutched a cushion close to his chest and looked up at Stiles. “For me?”

Stiles nodded.

Derek cleared his throat. “I have, you know…” He gestured between himself and Stiles with the cushion. “Me too. Feelings.”

“Wow,” said Stiles. “You are terrible at this.” He moved to sit down on the brown velvet cushion, right in front of Derek, dangerously close. “Please describe these feelings.”

“Stop enjoying this so much,” Derek said.

Stiles bit on his bottom lip as if that would stop the smile from breaking out, but it didn’t, it just made his lip even more red and full than usual. Derek was transfixed by it, by the small indentation his teeth made in the flesh, by the way his lip curved with the smile at a brand new angle.

“There was a frog in my minestrone, Derek,” Stiles said, breaking the spell. “I’m allowed to enjoy this.”

Derek picked up a cushion and pushed it into Stiles’ face. “That wasn’t me.”

Stiles yelped and toppled backwards. Derek reached out to stop him falling and he grabbed onto Derek as he flailed, pulling him back with him. Derek let him. He landed perfectly on top of Stiles, his hands planted either side of Stiles’ head. Stiles was warm and surprisingly comfortable, and he radiated a happiness that reached out and wrapped around Derek.

Stiles’ face was so close and his focus was entirely on Derek. Derek ran his thumb along Stiles’ cheekbone, needing to test if his skin was as soft as it looked. He ran his fingertips down Stiles’ cheek, traced around his moles, just to be entirely sure, to memorize the feeling of Stiles under him. Stiles’ mouth gaped open and his tongue edged out to run along his bottom lip. Derek couldn’t help but lean in to kiss him.

“Nuh-uh,” Stiles said, pulling back as far as he could with Derek pressing him to the floor. “Words before kisses, big guy.”

Derek groaned, resting his forehead against Stiles’. He felt Stiles’ eyelashes flutter against the side of his face, and he thought maybe, if he kept his eyes closed and just focused on having Stiles so close to him, maybe he could find a way to translate his feelings into words.

“I… you… I mean…” Derek sighed, and Stiles gripped his bicep.

“It’s okay,” Stiles said. “Take your time.” He gripped Derek’s arm even tighter, his other hand slipping under the back of Derek’s t-shirt, tracing patterns on his skin.

“Everything felt so dark, for so long,” Derek started, his voice just above a whisper. He felt stupid, and rubbed his nose back and forth over Stiles’ to cover it up. He tried to remember what the girls had told him, the hours and hours of stupid roleplays, but the only thing that stuck in his mind was that he needed to be honest. “But then, gradually, the light started to filter in. It was annoying and I tried to keep my eyes shut against it.” He nosed under Stiles’ ear, breathing him in. “But now it’s so bright it’s the only thing I can see.”

He felt Stiles smile against his skin. “You big marshmallow.” Stiles trailed his hand up Derek’s arm, over his shoulder until it tangled in Derek’s hair. Then he tugged Derek’s head around to look him in the face. “Wait, you mean me, right? I am the light?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yes, Stiles. You are the light.”

Stiles’ smile was soft and he looked at Derek with an expression that Derek had never seen before, as if Derek was the whole world. “I’m in love with you too, you big dummy.” He trailed a finger across Derek’s cheekbone, down his nose, across his lips. “You’re the best person I know, except maybe my dad, and I’m going to tell you that every day until you believe it.” He splayed his fingers out against Derek’s cheek, and Derek leaned into the touch. “You may kiss me now.”

Stiles’ lips were as soft as they looked, and his mouth was warm, so warm that Derek felt something that had been frozen as his core finally start to melt. Their lips brushed together slowly, as though time had stopped just for them, just so they could do this forever. Stiles touched him so softly, featherlight touches that barely brushed against his skin but reached deep down inside him to a place that recognized Stiles, that had been waiting for him. Every touch, every taste, every scent felt life changing to Derek, and they were both still fully clothed. They moved together, almost as if they were sharing the same thoughts, the same body, as if the two of them were tangling together in a way that could never be undone.

“This is _not_ going to help you pass your exam,” said Lydia’s voice from somewhere far, far away.

Derek felt drugged, too engrossed in Stiles to spare attention for anything else, nothing else seemed real.

“Go away,” Stiles said, his lips still against Derek’s. “If you cockblock me right now, Lydia Martin, I will end you, I swear to God.”

Derek heard Scott snort and he figured the whole pack was probably there, but he ignored them and trailed a line of kisses along Stiles’ jaw.

“They’re so cute,” said Kira, and Derek heard someone snap a picture.

“Yeah,” said Isaac. “If by ‘cute’, you mean creepy and awkward.”

“Those cushions are creepy and awkward,” said Lydia.

“Seriously, you guys,” said Stiles, hiding his face in Derek’s neck.

“Yeah, come on,” said Allison. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

There was some whispering that Derek didn’t try to decipher, in favor of concentrating on what Stiles’ tongue was doing to his neck, but he did wonder if Scott thought he was being stealthy as he crept around them to grab the study snacks off the sofa.

Then Stiles started sucking a mark into his neck, and he didn’t really notice the pack leave.

*

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Stiles said, sprawled across Derek’s bed six weeks later. “It’s not like you don't already know everyone.”

“That’s exactly why I am nervous,” Derek said, fiddling with his collar. “Your dad is going to be my boss.”

“Stop that,” Stiles said, sitting up and slapping Derek’s hands away from his shirt. His Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department shirt. “You look fine. More than fine.” Stiles leaned in to mouth lazily at Derek’s cheek.

“ _You_ stop _that_. I can’t show up on my first day reeking of my boss’s son. My boss’s _underage_ son.”

Stiles licked a stripe up Derek’s neck. “My dad’s not a werewolf, he won’t smell me.” He reached up to hold Derek’s head in his hands. “You’ve been spending half your time there lately anyway, this won’t be any different, except you’ll get to do the fun stuff instead of answering the phones.” Stiles nodded Derek’s head up and down, as though Derek was a puppet and he was the puppet master and he could convince Derek he wouldn’t screw this whole thing up that way. “Parrish has baked you a cake, you know.”

“Parrish is a terrible cook,” Derek said.

Stiles smiled and rubbed their noses together. “He is. You’re a much better cook.”

Derek didn’t need to hear Stiles’ heartbeat to know that was a lie, but the fact that Stiles said it was the important thing, he thought.

“Stop seducing me, I can’t be late on my first day. And you need to get ready for school.”

Stiles sighed and flopped back onto the bed. “Well, I can’t help the way you look in that uniform. Everyone in town’s going to be reporting crimes once they see you, I have to take advantage of the time I have.”

Derek snorted. “Dumbass. Have you seen my keys?”

“I think you dropped them by the door when we came in last night.”

Derek stood up and looked down at Stiles, half naked and tangled in his sheets like he was transported there straight from porn. He really wanted to crawl back into bed, wrap himself around Stiles and avoid the whole day.

“The first day is the worst,” Stiles said, as if he could read Derek’s mind. He nudged Derek with his foot. “Now get out there and enforce some law.”

“Go to school,” Derek told him, turning away to hide his smile. He knew Stiles was right, he just had to get over his first day nerves and everything would fall into place. And when he got home, the pack would be there, eating all his food and lazing on his furniture, making dumb jokes and asking invasive questions about his day to try and make him smile. And then they’d leave and Stiles would stay, and Stiles would make dirty jokes about Derek’s deputy uniform and handcuffs, and Derek would roll his eyes and Stiles would smile in that particular way, and everything would be perfect.

“Have a nice day,” Stiles called as Derek headed out the door.

And Derek thought maybe he would. Maybe he would every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and extra special thanks to everyone who's left kudos and lovely comments. I really hope you've enjoyed reading it <3
> 
> Please feel free to stop by [my tumblr](http://antilinski.tumblr.com) and say hello :)


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